


We Are Stars

by wincechesters



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Road Trip, Alternate Universe- No Supernatural, F/F, Femslash, Fluff, Road Trips, SPNFemslashMinibangRound1
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-03
Updated: 2014-09-03
Packaged: 2018-02-16 00:54:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 24,203
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2249817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wincechesters/pseuds/wincechesters
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Anna is well on her way to assuming her place at her father's corporation when she runs away with nothing but  a backpack full of clothes, her sketchbook and a wad of cash she's saved up and stolen from her father's safe. She doesn't know what she wants to do with her life, but knows she has to get away from her father's strict household and the plan he has for her. She doesn't make it very far before she meets Jo, a drifter spending her life on the road, making money off the deadbeats and truckers she hustles at dive bars. On a whim, Jo offers to drive her to California and Anna agrees. Even though they both know it's temporary—just until Jo gets Anna to California—they can't seem to stay out of each others' orbit. Somewhere between the breakdown in Oklahoma and a day spent hiking the Grand Canyon, they find themselves becoming more than just two girls on the same road trip.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the [SPN Femslash Mini-bang](http://spnfemminibang.livejournal.com/). Thanks to the mod(s) for all the hard work you put in to making this awesome challenge happen!
> 
> Gorgeous artwork by [musingsofashley](http://musingsofashley.tumblr.com/) is [here](http://musingsofashley.tumblr.com/post/96553708627/title-we-are-stars-author-wincechesters); please check it out and give Ashley some love! Her art is so lovely and working with her was an absolute pleasure.
> 
> And a special thanks as always to [Meg](http://myplaceofgreatestsafety.tumblr.com/) for betaing as always. I don't know what I'd do without you.
> 
> Come find me on [tumblr](http://wincechesters.tumblr.com/)!

The door to the Milton house swings inward on well-oiled hinges, barely a creak of the heavy wood to indicate its movement as Anna steps quietly out onto the step. She’s careful, glancing nervously up and down the street and shutting the door as gently as possible even though there’s no one home to see her leave. Castiel will already be at the University and Michael left early for the office, citing some seven am business meeting with one of their overseas offices, and who the hell knows where Father is. When she had asked after him days ago, Michael told her he was attending some conference in Boston, but frankly she doesn’t care. He’s never home, always at the office or away on some trip or other, and it just makes her escape that much easier.

She feels guilty for lying to Castiel, for telling him that she was sick when he’d knocked on her door to ask if she was coming to school today. If she’d had it her way he’d be running away with her, but when she’d brought it up to him months ago—ideas but no details, nothing that would tip him off to her plan—Cas had tensed up and spouted some nonsense about duty to the family and she’d known he wasn’t ready, despite being as unhappy as she is. They’d fought that day, the first time in years, and she’d known she was on her own.

Anna locks the door behind her, pushing her arm through the free strap of her heavy backpack and securing it against her shoulders. The flat of her sketchbook presses against her back, her one indulgence in a bag packed full of all the necessities she could squeeze inside. She’d left her cell phone behind, switched off and sitting on her bedroom dresser in a little pile with the contents of her wallet, minus her ID and all the cash she could withdraw from her small bank account without being caught.

She forces herself to move, stepping off the threshold and down the walk to the street. The first few steps are like walking through molasses; she’s craved this escape for so long, but now that the day has finally come for her to make her move, she’s terrified. She’s never known anything but this: a good, Christian family, the best schooling money could buy, her father’s rules and a gift-wrapped future just waiting for her to reach out and take it. She knows so little about the world outside her perfect little bubble, and the thought almost makes her turn tail and run back into the house, to abandon her escape before it’s even begun. It would be so easy to curl up in her bed and hide, to wait for Castiel and Michael to come home, to join them at their quiet, orderly dinner table and resume the role father had planned for her since she was a little girl.

But no—she needs to do this, to get out. Her feet move a little faster along the sidewalk.

A silver sedan glides past, heading the same direction as Anna out of their neighborhood, and she’s tempted to avoid the driver’s gaze and pretend that she doesn’t see but that would be too obvious. She makes herself smile and wave back at their neighbor, Naomi, as she heads off to work. If Anna’s lucky, it will just look like she’s going to school a little late, and maybe it’ll buy her some time before her family starts to look for her.

It’s a short walk to a street where she can catch the city bus, and Anna sits at the front near the driver, avoiding the glances of the other occupants, her hand wrapped tight around the metal pole beside her seat. She gets off as close as she can to the main road out of town, shouldering her bag again, and starts walking.

She had considered getting a bus ticket to the next town, but in the end, she’d ruled it out. Bus tickets are expensive, and she has about a thousand dollars that she’d stolen from the safe in Father’s office plus the couple hundred she pulled out of her own account, but she doesn’t know how long she’ll need that to last before she can find a job. She has some of Mom’s jewelry too, buried at the bottom of her backpack, but that’s a last resort, and she hopes she won’t have to pawn any of it. She would hate to have to sell the only memento she has of a mother that passed away when she was a child.

So she walks, hands coiled tightly around the straps of her pack, inhaling the smells of the swaying grass on either side of the road, letting the wind comb through her hair where it hangs loose against her shoulders. Every once in a while a car appears on the road behind her and she’ll turn, extending her thumb like she’s seen in the movies and on television, only to have them roll on past.

Hitchhiking is definitely easier in the movies.

Finally, a blue van with a ridiculous painting on the side of a woman brandishing a sword from the back of a polar bear slows to a stop beside her, the driver reaching awkwardly across to roll down the window by hand. Rock music spills out of the vehicle, blaring loudly out of crackling speakers until he hurriedly turns it down. The man is young, maybe a few years older than she is if she had to guess, with sleepy eyes and a friendly smile.

“Need a ride?”

She nods, slinging her bag free from her shoulders as she opens the door and hops up into the van. She coughs at the overwhelming odor of what she assumes must be marijuana smoke that hangs in the air and clings to the upholstery, and tries not to let herself look into the back through the ratty, beaded curtains that separate them from the rest of the van.

“Where to?” he asks.

“Are you going through Columbus?” Anna asks.

The guy shrugs. “Yeah I can make a stop there.” He extends a hand. “I’m Andy.”

“Nicole,” she lies, shaking his hand and settling her bag more comfortably on her lap.

 

 

Andy is friendly and asks too many questions, but he doesn’t seem phased when she gives him short, one word answers or doesn’t answer at all. He seems content to chatter on, his fingers tapping absently against the steering wheel along with the music. Anna settles in and watches the countryside roll past, letting his chipper voice wash over her, responding with a laugh or a nod or a smile when he pauses for reaction.

They reach Columbus, Ohio in a couple hours and Andy pulls into a gas station, putting the van in park and switching off the ignition. “Well, we’re here,” he says, scratching idly through his dark, curly hair. “There’s a couple motels near here I could drop you off at. Unless—” he chews his lip thoughtfully- “I’m probably going to keep going to Cincinnati tonight, if you want to tag along?”

For all that his van smells like a teenaged boy’s bedroom, Andy is nice, and she figures she might as well take his offer while she has the option. “Sure,” she says, smiling. “Thanks Andy.”

The sun is dipping low on the horizon by the time he stops in Cincinnati, pulling to a squeaky stop outside a motel on the outskirts called Twin Pines, ironic in that there is not a pine tree in sight. He offers her some weed—“for the road,” he says—before she shuts the door, but she just laughs and smiles.

“Thanks Andy, I’m good. Safe trip.” She shuts the door, shouldering her backpack and watching as the van peels away from the curb and back onto the road.

A kindly woman with tightly curled dark hair checks her in and presses a key into her hand, looking a little too understanding for her liking. It’s a cheap room and still she feels the sting of it as she presses the cash into the woman’s calloused palm, wondering if she could get a better deal elsewhere, until she sees the state of the room. It’s clean but dingy, the linoleum cracked and the bathroom fan whining in protest when she flicks on the light switch. If this is what fifty bucks would get her, she can only imagine what a less expensive room would look like.

“Suck it up, Anna,” she says to the empty room, dropping her bag down on the bed. “This is your life now. You better get used to it.”

Anna sits on the side of the bed and makes a collect call to California, wincing as she dials and hoping Charlie doesn’t mind accepting the charges. She holds her breath as she waits, the phone ringing tinnily in her ear.

“Hello?”

Anna lets out the breath she’s been holding in a rush. “Charlie?”

“Anna?” Charlie’s bubbly greeting sharpens with concern. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong.” Anna kicks off her shoes and draws her knees up to her chest, leaning up against the headboard. “I did it, Charlie. I left.”

Charlie whoops from the other end, and Anna smiles involuntarily, pulling the phone back from her ear to protect her eardrums. Charlie had been the one Anna always turned to when she couldn’t trust anyone else, not even Cas, and it had been her idea for Anna to leave home. They’d hatched the plan together, just waiting for the right moment for Anna to run away.

“Well done my young apprentice; I knew you had it in you,” Charlie says proudly. “Where are you? When are you getting here? Oh crap, I have to wash the guest room sheets.”

Anna rolls her eyes fondly. “I’m in Cincinnati. I’ll be there in a few days. I’m just taking my time, seeing the sights on the way.”

Charlie’s end of the line goes silent. “You know, I could get you a bus ticket. You could pay me back later.”

“I’m fine, Charlie,” Anna says. “I have the money. I should be able to get there no problem.”

“You’re stubborn, you know that?”

“I know,” Anna replies, grinning ruefully. “And you love it.”

“I do,” Charlie sighs. “Too bad for you, I’ve got a new girlfriend now.”

Anna chuckles. “How is Dorothy?”

“Great. Looking forward to meeting you and kicking your ass at COD. So you better hurry up and get out here.”

“I can’t wait to meet her either.”

Anna lets Charlie chatter for several more minutes, going on about some catastrophe at work and the new intern she has in her department, Kevin, and his awesome yet terrifying mother, known to everyone as Mrs. Tran. Unless you count the occasional Skype chat, which Anna doesn’t, she hasn’t seen Charlie in person in five years, not since Charlie dropped out of high school and used her considerable skills to score a much coveted job at Google headquarters. She’s heard a lot about Charlie’s awesome job (“There are nap pods, Anna. _Nap. Pods._ ”) and Charlie’s awesome new girlfriend, and she can’t wait to see all those things for herself. Anna lets her talk until Dorothy calls her from the other room for dinner, and Charlie has to go.

“You be careful, okay?” Charlie says. “I don’t wanna be hearing about you on the news. Unless it’s because you won some awesome, roadtrip karaoke contest.”

Anna rolls her eyes, grinning. “Goodnight, Charlie.” She hangs up the phone, shaking her head at her friend’s antics.

She eats an unfulfilling dinner consisting of a banana from her backpack and a bag of chips from the vending machine in the motel lobby then climbs under the covers and sketches for a bit, drawing the sunset over a field of wheat they passed as they approached the town. Finally she sets her sketchbook aside and turns on the TV, lying in bed wrapped up in stiff motel room linens, soothed by the dim light and droning of the late night shopping channel until she drifts off to sleep.

The next morning she manages to catch a ride from an elderly woman driving a beat up old pickup on her way through town. Anna’s starving by the time she finds herself in the second motel room of her journey in a place called Mitchell, Indiana, only two days into her journey and the food she’d packed long since eaten. There’s a laundromat nearby and she spends the afternoon washing her clothes. By dinnertime, she’s decided that she needs to splurge on real food, already tired of candy bars and chips from poorly-stocked vending machines. As she unlocks the door to her motel room, her backpack full of freshly laundered clothes, she spots a bar, the sign flashing dimly at her from across the parking lot proclaiming burgers and fries and cold beer. Anna smiles; getting a hot meal might not be so difficult after all.


	2. Chapter 2

Jo Harvelle sits alone at the dingy bar, nursing her second beer of the night, fingers tapping on the bar along with the classic rock song playing on the jukebox. She has a couple hundred bucks in the back pocket of her jeans, hustled off a trucker with a dirty cap and scraggly beard a couple hours earlier. The fucking sexist assholes are always underestimating her poker and pool skills, not that it doesn’t work out in her favor nine times out of ten. She grins into the mouth of her beer.

She had rolled into town this afternoon and figured she’d spend the night here; the parking lot behind the bar was as good a place as any to catch a few z’s, and the bar was a perfect place to pick up some extra cash. Place like this, she risked unwanted attention—pretty little blonde sitting all by herself in a rundown bar—but it wasn’t anything she couldn’t discourage with the little knife she kept strapped to the small of her back, or on a couple of memorable occasions, a well-timed punch to the face and swift knee to the balls.

Jo figures she’ll head back to poker in a few hours when the crowd has had some time to turn over and forget that she was the blonde girl that had been robbing the whole bar blind. There’s a buck-hunter arcade game in the corner just begging to be filled up with her name in all the high-score spots as soon as she finishes her beer.

She brings the bottle to her lips, tipping it back as she scans the room. It’s an average crowd in here tonight, typical dirty truckers and sleazy nobodies, except for the red-headed chick in the corner booth by herself who came in about half an hour ago, ordered a beer she had taken one sip of, screwed up her face at and not touched since. A greasy guy in a dirty apron had brought her an order of fries from the kitchen and otherwise she’s been all alone, keeping her eyes on the table in front of her and avoiding the questioning gaze of the other patrons.

Jo ventures another glance back at the redhead, the grin falling from her lips when she sees she’s no longer alone. There’s a man sitting across from her now, leaning across the table into her space, and from the tight way the girl is holding her body, leaning as far away as the booth will allow and eyes darting around in a clear search for an exit strategy, he isn’t welcome. As Jo watches, the girl shakes her head, forcing a tight smile as she stammers something, clearly trying to discourage him.

Jo snags her nearly empty beer off the bar and makes her way over to the redhead’s table, sliding into the booth on the same side as the girl. She slings her arm around the girl’s shoulders, ignoring her surprised glance and planting a chaste kiss on her cheek.

“Hey babe!” she exclaims, her voice cheerful. “Sorry I kept you waiting!”

Thankfully the girl catches on quickly. “Oh, it’s no problem,” she replies hesitantly. She smiles, letting some of the tension go. “I’m just glad you’re here now.”

“Who’s your friend?” Jo asks, turning her gaze from the girl to the man across from her in the booth, looking decidedly more sour now that it looks like he’s not going to get lucky tonight. Her smile doesn’t change but her eyes glitter dangerously, cold and unwelcoming as they skim disdainfully over the stranger.

“I was just leaving,” he mumbles, grabbing his drink from the table and sliding out of the booth.

Jo watches him go, staying in the booth pressed up against the redhead until he’s disappeared into the crowd. She pulls her arm out from around the girl and stands. “Sorry about that. You just looked like you needed an out.”

The girl nods gratefully. “Thank you so much. He didn’t believe that I wasn’t interested or that I was waiting for someone.”

Jo shakes her head. “Fucking pigs. They never do. ‘No’ isn’t good enough for them, they need actual proof otherwise they figure you’re fair game.” She raises her beer in the girl’s direction in salute. “Anyway, have a good night.”

She turns to go and finds her wrist caught in a warm grip as the redhead’s fingers wrap gently but firmly around it. “Wait,” the girl says, and Jo looks down at her, eyebrows raised. “Stay. Let me buy you another one of those.” She gestures at the beer in Jo’s hand. “As a thank-you.”

Jo shrugs, not one to turn down a free beer, and slides into the empty side of the booth. It’s going to be a couple hours until she can get back to pool or poker anyway; might as well waste time with some company.

The redhead slips out of the booth and goes to the bar, returning with a bottle of the same beer Jo had been drinking. Jo raises the bottle in salute and takes a sip, barely containing her snort as the redhead grimaces and copies her with her own barely-touched beer.

“It’ll grow on you,” Jo assures her companion, smiling around the mouth of her own bottle as she takes another sip to demonstrate. “I’m Jo, by the way,” she says.

“Nice to meet you, Jo,” the redhead replies, extending an awkward hand over the table. “I’m Anna.”

Jo laughs, taking her hand and shaking it, pleased to find that Anna’s grip is firm even though her palms and fingertips are soft against her own calloused ones. “So what brings you to Mitchell? You from around here, or just passing through?”

Anna’s big eyes dart down to the table, fixing on a dark knot in the murky wood of the tabletop. “Passing through. I’m making my way to California.”

“What’s in California?”

“A friend of mine, Charlie. She works at Google.”

“Google?” Jo asks, her eyebrows sliding up towards her hairline. “Like, the search engine, Google?”

Anna nods.

“Impressive,” Jo comments, her eyes flicking over Anna’s face. It might explain where she’s going but it doesn’t explain what Anna’s doing at a place like this. She might be hanging out in a trashy dive bar, but she clearly doesn’t belong; her shirt is pristine and white and looks to be some kind of expensive linen fabric, and her hair is shiny and well-kept in the dim lights hanging over the booth. She sticks out like a sore thumb in a place like this, even more than Jo herself does, clearly from money and clearly out of place.

“What about you?” Anna asks. “Do you live here in town?”

Jo shakes her head. “I’m passing through, too.” She snags one of Anna’s fries when the redhead pushes the basket in her direction. “I just stopped to make some money off of these bozos—“ she waves her hand expansively to indicate the room at large—“before I head on my way.”

Anna’s gaze roams around the room, taking in the clientele with wide, sharp eyes. Automatically, she plucks a fry from the basket and brings it to her mouth, biting off the end and swallowing it. “How do you do that?” she asks finally. “Make money off of them, I mean.”

Jo feels her lips curl into a grin, as she takes in Anna’s eager expression. “Why? You wanna learn?”

Anna flushes, but she smiles. “Maybe. I guess it depends what it entails.”

“Well,” Jo says, grabbing another fry, “are you any good at poker?”

“Um.” Anna tugs her bottom lip in between her teeth. “I’ve actually never played.”

A bark of incredulous laughter bursts from Jo’s chest. “Never?” Anna shakes her head, her lips twitching with amusement and Jo takes a fortifying pull from her beer. “Well, you should learn.” She nods over Anna’s shoulder at a table of burly men passing cards around. “These guys, they think they’re sharks but they’re no good, and they don’t expect a pretty little girl to show up and beat ‘em blind.” Anna nods, worrying her full bottom lip between her teeth thoughtfully.

“What about pool?” Jo asks. “Do you know how to play pool?”

“Yes,” Anna replies, tucking a stray bit of shiny red hair behind one ear and exposing the sharp line of her cheekbone. “We had a table at home.”

Jo winks, tipping her beer back and downing the rest. “Well then c’mon, I’ll show you how to hustle.” She snags one more fry, leaving the last for Anna, who follows quickly, slipping the fry between her lips and wrapping slender fingers around the neck of her still half-full beer.

All the tables are occupied so Jo flips through the jukebox as she waits. Anna grins when “I Can’t Fight this Feeling” starts filtering through the retro jukebox’s speakers.

“REO Speedwagon?” she asks, lips twitching and green eyes dancing with mirth.

Jo smirks. “Damn right, REO.” She casts an approving glance in Anna’s direction when the redhead starts to sing softly along to the words. She might be as out of her element as a vegetarian at a pig roast but at least she knows good music.

One of the tables opens up and Jo nudges Anna with her elbow, gesturing to the table. She racks up and offers the first shot to Anna, who takes it with a sly grin that surprises Jo and makes the muscles in Jo’s belly tighten unexpectedly. She watches as Anna leans over the table and lines up her cue with sure movements, striking the cue ball and breaking with a resounding _crack_ that puts two balls away on the first shot.

Jo grins. Damn, the girl can shoot some pool.

They busy themselves with a ferocious game, their skills fairly evenly matched. Somewhere along the line Anna manages to finish her beer and Jo buys the next round, ignoring Anna’s protests. Jo wins the game but only barely, and she doesn’t admit it, but she’s sure that it could have gone either way.

“Best two out of three?” Anna asks with a wide grin, a challenge dancing in her eyes, and Jo readily agrees.

Three games of pool later (Jo 2, Anna 1), Jo glances at the ancient Budweiser clock on the wall and realizes that she never did get back to hustling rednecks out of their cash. Somehow the hours had slipped by and it’s nearly one in the morning. Anna looks wiped; just another thing that labels her for a newbie on the scene.

“Well, I got a long drive ahead of me tomorrow,” Jo says, stretching her arms overhead and sighing in satisfaction as the joints of her spine straighten with a pop. “Guess I better be getting some shut eye.”

Anna nods. “Me too.” Jo leads the way out of the bar without comment, Anna following close behind, both girls ignoring the glances and mumblings that are cast their way.

“I had fun tonight,” Anna says once they’re outside in the cool night air, cicadas chirping in the distant field.

Jo grins. “Me too. Been a long time since anyone gave me a run for my money like that.”

Anna smiles back at her, soft pink lips pressing together and bright eyes dancing in the light from the flickering neon sign above the eaves of the bar. For a moment, Jo wonders what it would be like to kiss her, if her lips would be as soft as they look, if she would kiss back.

She pushes the thought aside, nudging her with her hip instead and turning away towards where she’s parked her truck. “Well, thanks. Safe trip, okay?”

Anna pauses, shoving her hands into the back pockets of her jeans. “Hey, Jo?”

Jo stops, turning with eyebrows raised to look back at Anna.

“Where are you staying?” Anna asks, sucking her bottom lip back between her teeth again.

“Back of my truck’s as good as anything,” Jo answers, waving a hand at the beat-up truck standing in the parking lot.

Anna pauses hesitantly. “I have a spare bed in my room,” she says tentatively. “The room’s already paid for, and you’re welcome to it.”

Jo grins, stepping back towards Anna. “Wow, I guess I have a ton to teach you about trusting strangers, too.”

Anna shrugs, her lips curving into a gentle smile. “You helped me with that guy earlier,” she insists, her eyes wide and sincere. “I think I can trust you.”

“Well, I’m not going to turn down a free night in a semi-comfortable bed and a hot shower in the morning,” Jo says, and she jogs over to her truck to yank out her duffle bag and back to Anna’s side. “Lead the way,” she says with a grin.

Anna’s answering smile is warm.


	3. Chapter 3

Anna wakes slowly to the sound of water running in the tiny motel bathroom and the grating whine of a fan in need of a tune-up. She stretches languidly, sitting up and shoving her hair out of her eyes, taming the tangles with her fingers as she surveys the room. Jo’s boots are still sitting one on top of the other where she left them by the front door, and warm orange light is filtering into the room through ghastly curtains that look like they’ve been around since the seventies.

By the time Jo gets out of the shower, blonde hair hanging in wet waves against shoulders bared by a black tank top, Anna has two cups of coffee from the motel office waiting on the little table by the window. She dumps her wet towel and her duffel bag on her bed and accepts the cup that Anna holds up for her.

“Thanks,” she says, sipping gingerly. “And thanks for letting me crash and use your shower.”

Anna shrugs, taking a drink from her own cup. It’s awful coffee, but it was free, and she’s not going to turn her nose up at free caffeine. “It’s not a problem. I had the room and it was paid for. And you don’t appear to have robbed me or murdered me in my sleep.”

Jo laughs, nodding. “Still. Thanks.” She unzips the duffel and pulls out a pair of granola bars, tossing one to Anna without comment and sitting down on the unoccupied chair at the little round table. They eat and sip in silence and then Anna sighs and pushes herself up from the table. “Well I guess I better shower, too. Checkout’s at eleven and it might take me a while to find a ride.” She moves towards the shower, hooking her backpack off the floor beside her bed where she’d left it. “If you’re gone before I get out… thanks for a fun night last night.”

Jo smirks, brown eyes dancing. “Sounds like you’re thanking me for a one night stand.”

Anna feels her face heat. “You know what I mean,” she snips back. “Anyway… see you.” She shuts the bathroom door behind her, sighing as she deposits her bag on the floor by the counter. As she starts up the shower, she has a half-formed thought about asking Jo where she’s going and if she can hitch a ride with her, but she hears the motel room door shut and the opportunity is gone.

She takes her time, relishing the hot water slipping over her skin. The water pressure is terrible but at least it’s warm, and it feels good to wash the cigarette smoke smell out of her hair, the stickiness of sweat and beer from her skin. She feels like a new woman when she steps out of the shower, combing out the tangles of her hair and dressing in a clean pair of shorts and a white tank and tugging a soft brown cardigan over top.

When she steps out of the bathroom, she jumps, startled. Jo is still in the room, stretched out across Anna’s bed with her arms behind her head, the TV droning as she flicks through channels. She grins at the startled expression on Anna’s face and shuts the TV off, uncrossing her booted feet and sitting up.

“So I was thinking,” Jo starts, “you need a ride out to the coast. I got a truck and no place to be. It’s been a while since I saw the Pacific Ocean.” She grins at Anna, still frozen in the doorway to the bathroom, backpack clutched in front of her. “What do you say we go together? This way, you got a ride and you don’t have to worry that the next guy who picks you up might cut you up into little pieces and dump you in a river somewhere, and I get someone to split the cost of gas and the occasional room. It’s a win-win.”

Anna’s eyes go wide as she surveys the blonde so casually parked on the unmade motel room bed. “Really?”

Jo shrugs one shoulder, her lips tilting crookedly. “Why not? I’m just taking the grand tour, seeing the sights. Might as well have some company.”

The _yes_ is halfway to Anna’s lips before she even gives herself a chance to think about it. She likes Jo; they’d had fun last night and it would be nice not to worry who she was getting into a car with. Jo intervened with the pushy guy from last night and didn’t run off with any of her stuff in the middle of the night or stab her or anything, so she figures she’s safe.

She makes herself stop, though, and consider. The cost of gas will be higher than hitchhiking. And she’d be stuck in a car with a relative stranger for several days straight. Then again, maybe they can stay in Jo’s truck a couple of nights as she seems to have done on occasion and save on the cost of a motel. She thinks she can handle the stranger thing. It’s only a few days after all.

“Okay,” she agrees, and Jo’s face splits into a wide, pretty grin.

“Awesome,” she says, shoving herself up from the bed. “Well, you going to get your crap together or what?” She grins over her shoulder as she flings open the motel room door, jingling her keys. “The road’s a-waitin’!”

Anna feels her mouth curl into an answering smile, and hurries to obey.

Jo’s truck is a beat up old Chevy, colored a faded green and speckled with rust, with an off-white canopy covering the bed. The windows are a little dingy around the edges with age and the door creaks protestingly as Anna opens it, shoving her bag into the small space behind her seat and climbing up into the cab.

“Is this vehicle safe for such a long trip?” Anna asks uneasily, wondering if she’d been wrong to think she would be safer with Jo.

The blonde turns to glare at her, the still-drying waves of her hair flicking against the headrest as her head whips around.“Hey, I take good care of my truck, okay? And I had her checked out by my friend when I last passed through Kansas a couple weeks ago.” Jo slams the drivers’ side door behind her and fits the key to the ignition. “He’s a mechanic. You got nothing to worry about.”

Despite Anna’s worries, the truck starts with only a slight protest, chugging reluctantly to life when Jo gives it a little bit of gas. Jo noses the truck out of the parking lot and onto the highway, the rumble of the engine growing louder as she picks up speed. Jo rolls down her window and Anna follows suit, a warm breeze rushing in to comb through their hair. Jo cranks the radio to a classic rock station and Anna is surprised to find herself grinning as she watches the Indiana countryside whip by.


	4. Chapter 4

Despite looking like she’d walked off the pages of a magazine—all ethereal beauty and big eyes and high cheekbones, brand name clothes from head to toe and not a speck of dirt under her nails—Anna’s far more down to earth than Jo could have expected. Cautious at first, she still flushes at every slightly off-color joke Jo makes but before long she’s dishing it right back, surprising Jo into laughter on more than one occasion.

But in spite of being kind of cool and surprisingly down to earth, Jo soon discovers that Anna is also a bit of a control freak.

“So, where are we headed?” Anna asks over the rumble of the truck and the roar of the wind rushing into the open windows. She reaches a hand to comb the tangles of her hair back from her face.

Jo flicks a quick glance at her and shrugs. “I don’t really have a plan. I’m just driving.”

Anna stares at her like she’s sprouted a second head. “You don’t know where we’re going?”

“Sure I do. We’re going to California.”

Out of the corner of her eye, Jo sees Anna roll her eyes. “But what route are we taking? Do you have a map?” Jo shakes her head and Anna gapes at her. “We can’t just drive until we hit water!”

Jo laughs, then grins at the glare Anna shoots her way. “Why not? Seems like a pretty fool proof plan to me. The ocean is big; it’s not like we’re gonna miss it.”

“You’re infuriating,” Anna grumbles, choosing to ignore Jo’s answering laugh in favor of peering out the open window, presumably in search of a road sign or landmark. “Do you even know where we are?”

“Somewhere between Kentucky and Missouri. I think I saw the ‘Welcome to Illinois’ sign a ways back.” She glances quickly at Anna again who looks like she’s trying her damndest to hold back a retort. “Relax, okay? We’ll get there.”

Anna subsides into reluctant silence and Jo secretly pats herself on the back for convincing her uptight travel companion to take a chill pill. She cranks the tunes and leans her arm against the window, humming along and enjoying the open road, mentally chalking one up for herself.

That is until they stop for gas at a broken down little gas station and Anna comes out of the building, having paid for the first tank of gas on their shared journey, stuffing a disposable camera into her pocket and with an enormous, pristinely-folded road map clenched in her hand.

Jo groans as Anna opens her door and swings up into the truck. “Seriously?”

Anna ignores her, unfolding the map against her slender legs and trailing one finger over the myriad lines tracing the paper until she finds the name of the hole-in-the-road town they’re stopped in. Jo just rolls her eyes and puts the truck back in drive, pulling them back out onto the highway. They’ve got some daylight left and she thinks they can make some good progress before they have to stop for dinner and sleep.

Anna’s nose stays buried in the map until, somewhere in the middle of Illinois, Jo groans. She pulls the truck over to the side of the road and gets out, crossing around to Anna’s side and opening the door. She yanks the map out of Anna’s hand, ignoring her startled protest and the dismayed sound she makes as Jo crushes it haphazardly, effectively ruining the perfect folds. Jo gestures imperiously towards the field behind her.

“Get out.”

Anna blinks at her, eyes wide. “What?”

“Get out. It’s your turn to drive.” She stares up at Anna, waiting with her hip cocked. “Well? You do have a driver’s license, don’t you?”

“Yes,” Anna replies hesitantly. “But I’ve never driven a truck before.”

Jo rolls her eyes. “You’ll be fine, princess.”

Anna’s eyes narrow but she unbuckles her seat belt, sliding down from the seat and making her way around to the driver’s side. Jo rummages around in the cooler for two bottles of water and some chips before she jumps back in, this time on the passenger side. Anna is waiting, seat belt buckled, her knuckles white where they grip the steering wheel.

“Take it easy,” Jo says, passing her the water bottle which Anna takes gratefully, sipping it and sticking it in the cupholder between them before shifting the truck back into drive and pulling cautiously out on the highway.

Once Anna has the truck up to speed, Jo grins. “See? Piece of cake.”

Anna shoots her a small smile, her posture relaxing slightly and her grip easing on the wheel. She even lets go of the steering wheel with one hand to take a chip when Jo offers her the bag.

Jo settles into the seat, pulling her legs up to rest her booted feet against the dash. She watches the Illinois countryside roll past as the day fades into dusk, shadows of trees and buildings and power poles alike stretched across the ground by a low-slung evening sun. It’s been a long time since Jo sat in the passenger seat of a vehicle—any vehicle. She’s been on her own by choice for so long, and she’s still not sure if heading across the country with a strange yuppie kid from money is a good idea. But if it means she gets a break from being behind the wheel and someone to talk to, then it might be worth it.

She turns back to glance at Anna, squinting against the setting sun as she drives. She’s finally relaxed, one hand sitting comfortably in her lap as she guides the steering wheel with the other, the sinking sun setting her hair on fire in a halo of red.

“Here,” Jo says, reaching over and flipping down the driver’s side visor to pull out her aviator sunglasses, holding them out to Anna who takes them hesitantly and slides them on. She smiles once they’re in place.

“Thanks,” she says gratefully, sighing in relief. “How do they look?” She purses her lips comically at Jo, keeping one eye on the road.

Jo laughs. “They look…” her eyes flick over Anna’s face, “really hot, actually.”

A flush rises on Anna’s high cheekbones but she smiles broadly. “Really?”

“Yeah, really,” Jo says baldly. “But don’t let it get to your head; they look fucking awesome on me too.”

Anna grins. “That would not surprise me at all.”

Jo looks up sharply at Anna, studying her face. If she didn’t know better she would think that Anna was flirting with her just now, or at the very least, flirting back. The more she learns about Anna, the more Jo realizes what a mystery she really is, surprising her at every turn.

“So what’s your story?” she blurts out. “How’s a rich kid like you end up hitchhiking her way across the country?”

Anna tenses, her hand tightening on the steering wheel while the other curls into a fist in her lap. She licks her lips, her eyes behind the sunglasses darting nervously towards Jo.

“Hey, look, if you don’t want to tell me, that’s your business,” Jo says, digging in the chip bag for another handful of Doritos. She holds out the bag to Anna, a peace offering of sorts. Anna hesitates and then reaches in to take a couple chips, still not speaking.

They’re silent for so long that Jo zones out again, staring out the window and watching mile after mile of farmland whiz past.

“I ran away.”

Jo looks up sharply. “Ran away?”

Anna nods. “I come from a very strict upbringing. I’m sure you’ve heard of Milton Pharmaceuticals?”

“Shit.” Jo can’t help the stare she levels at Anna, who is resolutely staring at the road, refusing to meet Jo’s eyes. She’d have to have been living under a rock _not_ to have heard of Milton Pharmaceuticals. “That’s you?” The company is one of the largest drug distributors in the country but that’s not why everyone knows about them. A few years back the company was made famous by some scandal when one of the CEOs or CFOs or some other dude with a fancy three letter acronym jumped ship or got kicked out or something. It was all they heard about for weeks until it was hushed up.

“My family, yes. I’m a Milton.” Anna waves a hand aimlessly. “All us kids were expected to go into the company. My father had a place set out for me for years. I’ve never wanted it though; never really knew _what_ I wanted, but I knew it wasn’t that. I just wanted a _choice_.” Anna shoots a glance at Jo, meeting her eyes for one brief moment before she drags her gaze back to the road. “But my father said in no uncertain terms that I was going to do it whether I wanted to or not. Free will be damned.”

“Well, fuck,” Jo says succinctly and Anna laughs, nodding.

“‘Well, fuck’ is about right, yeah. So I left.”

Jo shakes her head in disbelief, shoving a chip into her mouth as she processes this new information, only the rumble of the truck around them and the soft strains of music filtering from the radio to fill the silence. She’d known she was travelling with someone from money, but she had no idea Anna was practically pharmaceutical royalty. They couldn’t be more different in their upbringings but somehow, Anna’s story strikes a chord with her. They may be from totally different walks of life, but they have more in common than she would have thought possible.

“I ran away, too,” she says, without really intending to. Anna’s head tilts, so Jo knows she’s listening, waiting patiently for Jo to go on. “My parents—” she swallows, and starts again. “My mom, she has this bar. I grew up there my whole life; was serving beer way before I was old enough to drink it. My dad taught me how to shoot when I was just a kid, soda cans off a fence rail, you know the drill.” She combs a hand through her hair, shifting in her seat. “But he, uh… he died when I was a kid. Hunting accident.”

“I’m sorry,” Anna says softly. “My mother’s gone too.”

“Uh, yeah. I’m sorry too,” Jo replies awkwardly. She clears her throat roughly; it’s been a long time since her dad passed away, but it still feels like a knife in her gut whenever she thinks about him. “Anyway, mom did the best she could, tried to keep me in school and stuff, but I just never fit in.” She laughs humorlessly. “Pretty hard to make friends when you’d rather talk about guns and knives than braids and senior prom and who’s dating whom. So I ran. Been on the road ever since.”

Anna nods. “I get it,” she says softly. “I never fit in either.”

The cab of the truck falls silent, both girls lost in thought. By some mutual agreement, the subject is shelved for the time being, Anna reaching out to turn the radio back up and Jo passing the chip bag back and forth between them until it’s empty.

The sun slips slowly below the horizon, darkness swallowing up the countryside, and they agree that it’s time to stop for food and some rest. Jo points down a dirt road that looks mostly unused and directs Anna to park in a disused old driveway overgrown with grass and weeds and bracketed by a grove of trees. Jumping down from the truck, Jo stretches with a groan, her joints popping as she uncoils her stiff limbs. She hears an answering groan from the other side of the truck and grins.

They sit side by side on the open tailgate, eating hastily assembled sandwiches and sipping beer from the cooler, and then they crawl up inside the back on the nest of blankets and pillows piled there. “I hope you don’t hog the covers,” Jo teases, and Anna just rolls her eyes good-naturedly, grabbing the pillow Jo tosses her way.

It’s awkward, lying side by side with a stranger in such a tight space. They’re shoved as far away from each other as they can be, Jo’s back against the side of the truck, the wheel well pressing against the backs of her legs, and Anna as near as she can get to her own side, with the cooler tucked away above their heads. Jo figures it’s weird to look at her, since they’re essentially sharing a bed and barely know each other—although they know each other a little better now, after their deep conversation earlier—so she wiggles around until she’s facing away from Anna, banging her knee in the process and swearing loudly.

Anna giggles and Jo glares over her shoulder at her. “Shut up,” she says, rubbing her knee, but her lips curl into a smile against her will as she turns back around and settles in to sleep.


	5. Chapter 5

Despite Jo’s insistence that the truck, which Anna guessed was new sometime in the late seventies before either of them had been born, ran like a dream and had been checked out by the mysterious “Dean” when Jo went through Kansas, the thing still manages to die somewhere between Tulsa and Oklahoma City. Thankfully Jo’s driving when it happens, and she somehow manages to find the shoulder through a screen of white smoke now billowing out of the hood without driving them into the ditch.

Jo’s swearing when she throws herself out of the vehicle, slamming the door behind her. Anna follows more slowly, making her way through the long grass on her side to the front where Jo’s propping open the hood and waving smoke out of her face.

“God-fucking-dammit,” she curses, coughing. She points a sharp finger in Anna’s direction when she sees her come around the front of the truck. “Don’t you say a word.”

Anna throws her hands up in a gesture of surrender, fighting to keep the twitch of her lips from showing. Damn, but pissed-off, disgruntled Jo is kind of ridiculously cute. “I wouldn’t dare.”

Jo glares at her one more time for good measure, bending to peer around the inside of the engine, and Anna watches as she fiddles around with myriad parts that Anna can’t even begin to recognize or name. She’s never had to know anything about vehicles, never having ventured out of her hometown by herself and never being far away from roadside assistance. But Jo clearly wasn’t lying when she told Anna that she maintains the vehicle herself; it’s clear by the dedicated way she inspects the engine that she knows what she’s doing.

Finally she straightens up, slamming the hood down and wiping greasy hands on the fronts of her shorts. “Well, it looks like the radiator hose blew. Fuck.” She wipes her sweaty forehead with the inside of her arm, keeping her blackened fingers away from her face.

“Can you fix it?”

“Yeah, but not without the part.” Jo kicks the bumper angrily with one booted foot. “We’ll have to get into a shop. I have some tools with me and if I get Dean on the phone he can walk me through changing it out, once we get ahold of a new hose.” She sighs in frustration, digging her phone out of her pocket.

Jo calls a tow truck while Anna gets some lunch started for them, slapping together some roast beef sandwiches. The afternoon is hot, and she can feel sweat trickling down the small of her back underneath her tank top as she bends over the cooler. She’s grateful for Oklahoma’s famous wind, sweeping across the prairie and bringing at least a little respite.

Jo joins her a few moments later, wiping her hands on a rag from the glove compartment. “So we’re about fifty miles out from the nearest town,” she says, accepting the sandwich Anna passes to her with a grateful nod. “And the damn podunk town only has one tow-truck driver, and he’s out in the opposite direction right now. They figure it’ll be a few hours ‘til he gets to us.” She hops up on the open tailgate, bending one leg to prop her booted foot up beside her.

Anna joins her on the tailgate, digging into her own sandwich. “It could be worse, I guess. At least it’s sunny out.”

Jo rolls her eyes. “You are disturbingly optimistic sometimes,” she says, but her soft pink lips curl into a smile as she looks across the bed of the truck at Anna.

They eat in silence, kicking their legs where they hang over the edge of the tailgate. After they’ve finished their meal, Jo strips off the plaid shirt she had on over her tank and the two of them bask in the sun, lying back into the bed of the truck. The afternoon sun is hot on Anna’s face, making her drowsy, and she finds herself drifting off to sleep.

She’s startled awake when a gigantic tractor rumbles its way past and lurches to a sitting position, glancing around to get her bearings before she remembers where they are. Jo’s asleep at her side, looking softer in sleep than she does awake, the dark sweep of her eyelashes fanning out over the gentle curve of her cheek, lips slightly parted. Her hair is spread out on the blankets beneath her head, unruly blond waves spread around her in a fan of gold.

The time on the screen of Jo’s decrepit old phone between them reads 4:36 pm, meaning that Anna had been asleep for less than an hour. She stretches and slides out of the truck, deciding to let Jo sleep for a while. She retrieves her backpack from the cab of the truck and climbs up on the battered hood, propping herself up against the windshield and setting her sketchbook up on her bent legs after slathering on a layer of the sunscreen she’d had the foresight to buy at the last gas station they stopped at.

Anna flips open the book, skimming past pages already filled with color until she finds a blank one. She hasn’t had a chance to draw since she met Jo, choosing instead to keep her sketchbook hidden, whether out of necessity or shyness, she’s not sure. But now Jo is sleeping and they’re stranded out in the middle of nowhere and it’s a perfect opportunity. Her fingers itch with the need to hold a pencil, to capture the picturesque countryside around her, the lazy swooping arms of a windmill turning against the backdrop of an azure sky over pale yellow fields of wheat.

If the truck had to break down, there are worse places it could have happened than in Oklahoma.

Colors bloom on the blank page as Anna sketches with the fancy Prismacolor pencils she’d stashed in their case near the bottom of her bag. This was the one indulgence she allowed herself when she left—her books, her music, her computer, all that had been left behind, but this, this she couldn’t bear to part with. She loses herself in the colors as she so often has, and when she’s finished with the windmills, she draws the broken-down farmhouse they’d passed a couple of hours back, faded brown with age, roof caved in and open windows like unseeing eyes peering out across the fields.

“Whatcha drawing?”

Anna starts, looking up and flushing to see Jo standing by the passenger side mirror, rubbing sleep from her eyes. “How long have you been standing there?” Anna asks stiffly.

Jo yawns and stretches languidly, her tank top riding up to show a thin strip of taut stomach. “Not long.” She moves to the front bumper and climbs up beside Anna on the hood, Anna shuffling over to make room for her. “So do I get to see?”

Anna licks her lips nervously, and then turns the book on impulse so Jo can peer at it over Anna’s shoulder. Jo scooches closer, the blonde’s hip bumping against Anna’s through the denim of their shorts. She stares for a long moment, and then turns to meet Anna’s eyes.

“Wow that’s—Anna, you’re really good.”

In this position, Jo’s face is incredibly close to her own, her cheeks flushed prettily pink from sun and sleep, her eyelids heavy in the bright afternoon sun. There’s a smudge of oil across her cheekbone, and her brown eyes are dark and warm under the heavy curtain of her lashes.

“Thank you,” Anna whispers, tugging her bottom lip between her teeth self-consciously. Jo’s eyes dart down to Anna’s mouth, following the movement and Anna feels her cheeks heat, her own eyes slipping down to the pink bow of Jo’s lips and then back up. She would only have to lean a few inches in and their lips could be touching. She wonders if Jo would taste like she looks: like summer and sunshine and engine grease and vitality.

They jump when the first car in over an hour rumbles past, both girls laughing sheepishly and leaning away from each other, returning to a safe distance. The moment, whatever it was, is gone. Jo leans back on the windshield and closes her eyes, lacing her fingers together behind her head, and Anna picks up her pencil to finish her drawing, still hyper-aware of Jo’s presence at her side.

It’s not like Anna’s a stranger to kissing. She’s kissed a few boys in her time, starting with Stevie Rider in the second grade. She’d had a couple serious boyfriends since then, had her heart broken once and broken a couple herself.   
And then there’d been Charlie. They’re friends now, but for a while they were something more. Anna had been a junior when Charlie’s family moved to town, and there was suddenly another redhead in her classes, smiling at her and cracking jokes and making Anna laugh, and before long, helping her with her math homework. She was the one who introduced Anna to Harry Potter and the world of Tolkien, and taught Anna how to play video games (although she was never very good at that last one). She was the first one who made Anna feel like she could be anything, in spite of what her Father said.

Charlie was also the one who taught her that she liked kissing girls just as much as kissing boys.

Anna hadn’t been with any girls since she and Charlie had decided they made better friends than girlfriends, although she’d had a steady boyfriend for a few months her second year in college. But now here’s Jo—brilliant, vibrant, snarky Jo—and Anna wants to kiss her. A lot.

But she doesn’t know if Jo likes girls and even if she does, she doesn’t know if Jo likes _Anna_ in particular. What if she tries to kiss her and then it makes the whole rest of their trip awkward? Or worse, what if she tries to kiss Jo and freaks her out? Anna hadn’t been sure if riding with Jo was a good idea but now she likes Jo, a lot, actually, and she doesn’t want to risk this. They have a good thing going, and still a long way to go.

And even if all the odds are in Anna’s favor and Jo does like girls and does like Anna, what’s the point? They have a week together, maybe a little more, and then Jo will drop Anna off in California with Charlie and Dorothy and take off across the country and that will be that.

So instead of leaning over and caging Jo with her arms and pressing her lips to Jo’s like she would like to, she ducks her head and turns her full attention to her sketchbook, shoving the thoughts firmly out of her mind.

* * *

The tow truck shows up around dinnertime and the driver, a gruff but friendly man who introduces himself as Rufus, takes Jo’s truck the last fifty miles to his shop in a town called Chandler, and kindly drops the girls off at a cheap motel nearby. Jo and he discuss specifics, and after some debate, he agrees to order her the part so she can fix it herself.

“No point in paying for labor when I can do it myself for free,” Jo says, grinning as she slings her duffel bag over her shoulder and follows Anna into the motel office.

Once in their room, Anna lets Jo take the first shower since she’s the one with engine grease all over her, and takes the opportunity to grab them some burgers from the diner next door. Despite the wrench in their plans, Anna admits, if only to herself, that she’s glad to be at a motel for tonight at least. It’s been a couple days since they had a hot meal or slept in a bed, and she can’t wait to work out the kinks she’s developed from sleeping in the back of the truck, rigid even in sleep to keep to her side of the nest of blankets that had served as her and Jo’s bed. She devours her burger and half her fries before she even hears the water shut off in the bathroom, hoping that Jo will forgive her for not waiting.

The bathroom door swings open minutes later and Jo emerges in a t-shirt and jeans. “All yours,” she says with a grin, squeezing water out of her hair with a lumpy white towel.

Anna showers until the water runs cold, letting the warmth ease the stiffness in her muscles from being on the road, washing away the dust and sunscreen and dried sweat. By the time she shuts off the water, towelling off and sliding into sweatpants and a soft, worn t-shirt, she’s feeling loose and sleepy, eyelids drooping.

Jo’s made herself comfortable in the bed closest to the TV, propped up on pillows with her legs crossed at the ankle, a beer in one hand and the other lifting french fries to her mouth. She looks up from the TV when the door to the bathroom opens and grins. “Hey, get over here! _Ghostfacers_ is on!”

Anna’s brow furrows. “What’s _Ghostfacers?_ ”

“You’ve never heard of _Ghostfacers?_ ” Jo asks incredulously, her eyebrows shooting up towards her hairline. Anna shakes her head. “Oh my god, I have so much to teach you,” Jo says, scooting over and patting the bed beside her. “It’s about a couple of dorks who decided that they’re ghost hunters or whatever, and they go to places that are supposedly haunted and try to communicate with them. It’s fucking amazing.”

Anna laughs at her enthusiasm and climbs onto the bed beside her, twisting onto her side to face Jo and propping herself up on her elbow. A commercial is playing about some breakfast cereal or other, but then it’s ending and a ridiculous theme intro is playing them back into the show after the break.

The man on the screen (Jo says his name is Ed) has glasses and an unkempt beard, and he speaks with utterly hilarious overdone conviction about the presence of a spirit in the house they’re inspecting, his face comically close to the green light of the camera’s night vision mode. His partner Harry is no better.

“ _Two lone wolves,_ ” Harry is saying.

“ _And two lone wolves need, uh...other wolves_.”

Anna snorts and turns her head to look at Jo, startled to see Jo looking back at her. Her eyes are soft, and when she catches Anna’s gaze, she grins slowly, and Anna feels heat unfurl low in her belly. She smiles back, unable to look away, until a high-pitched scream blares out of the tinny speakers of the ancient TV, startling them out of their trance.

She focuses on the TV, trying not to think about how Jo is only inches away in the same bed as her, how Jo had invited her into the bed, and how she’d looked at her when Anna had caught her eye. She loses herself in the flickering light of the television, her body sinking into the fluffy pile of pillows, letting the whispering and lowered voices pull her under.


	6. Chapter 6

Jo wakes with a crick in her neck from sleeping propped up on way too many pillows, curled up on top of the blankets. The TV is still droning on from the foot of the bed, and she groans, reaching sleepily with the remote from the bedside table to switch it off. The clock on the nightstand reads 7:12 am, way too early to be awake without a good reason, so she shoves the extra pillows off the side of the bed and wiggles underneath the hideous orange comforter, turning on her left side to get comfortable—

And comes face to face with a sleeping Anna, curled on her side facing Jo, head pillowed on her arm and hair a cloud of red around her face. Jo freezes as Anna shifts in her sleep, making a small _hmm_ noise as she burrows down deeper into the pillows. In sleep, Anna looks like a marble statue, perfectly carved with alabaster skin and high cheekbones, pillowy lips slightly parted and thick, pale lashes fanned out against her cheek. In the dim light of the early morning sun filtering through the crappy curtains, Jo can just make out the tiny dark specks of the few freckles she has sprinkled haphazardly across her nose and cheeks. She likes them, she thinks; proof that Anna isn’t made of stone.

The other bed is still pristinely made as it had been when they checked in; they must have fallen asleep in the same bed while watching the _Ghostfacers_ marathon that had been on last night. Jo smiles in spite of herself, remembering how Anna had laughed at the antics of the cast, turning to see if Jo was laughing, too. She remembers the look they had shared, remembers wondering, not for the first time, what Anna would do if Jo tried to kiss her.

She’d been thankful, then, for the interruption of the show in the form of some freakout or other. If Anna had kept looking at her like that she would most certainly have kissed her, and Jo’s not sure that would have been a good idea. Anna’s beautiful and snarky and—as she discovered when they were broken down on the side of the road yesterday—freakishly talented, but Jo’s never been one for relationships, and it would be stupid to start something when they’re basically just two ships passing in the night. She doesn’t want Anna to get the wrong idea about her; she has no job, no home, and no destination. She’s a drifter and she likes it that way.

Jo has vague ideas about drifting back to sleep but Anna’s proximity and all the speculation running through her brain seems determined to make that impossible. She stumbles grumpily out of bed and starts a pot of the complimentary coffee in the little kitchenette, and Anna starts stirring sleepily as soon she smells it, the merry bubbling sound of it percolating filling the room.

“Hey,” Jo calls from where she’s leaning up against the counter, flipping through the newspaper.

Anna rises sleepily, rubbing her eyes, hair curling and waving every which way in a wild disarray around her head from falling asleep with it still wet from the shower. “Hey,” she replies, voice husky from sleep.

The sound makes the muscles in Jo’s belly tighten with a sudden heat and she swallows and shifts against the counter. “Coffee’s almost ready,” she says unnecessarily. “And then I thought we could grab some breakfast at the diner down the street before I check in with the mechanic.”

“Sounds good,” Anna says, smiling sleepily at Jo as she pulls a cup down from the cupboard and fills it with water from the tap, downing half the glass before she stops for air.

The food at the diner when they make it there is greasy and sits heavy in their stomachs, but the coffee is good (better than the crap from their motel room, anyway) and the service friendly. After they’re finished, the pair of them walk the last couple blocks down to the auto shop where her truck is being stored, and Jo is pleased as punch to hear that Rufus should have the part for her by tomorrow.

“So, if you want to find someone else to catch a ride with, that’s cool with me,” Jo finds herself saying, flicking a glance up at Anna as they meander slowly back down the street to the motel.

Anna turns, startled. “Did you change your mind about driving together?”

Jo shakes her head. “No, no, I didn’t mean that. I just meant- if you didn’t want to be held up waiting for the truck to get fixed. You could be on the road again today, if you wanted.”

“No, I—” Anna cuts herself off, staring down at her sneakers where they scuff along the sidewalk. “I’m not in any rush. I can wait for you.”

“Cool.” Jo smiles, inexplicably happy, and Anna looks up to meet her gaze. She tries not to think of how glad she is that Anna wants to stay with her, or what it means that she’s so glad. Anna’s mouth curls into an answering smile, lips pressed together and eyes warm.

* * *

The evening is spent hustling pool at a local dive bar, where Jo discovers, to her surprise and delight, that Anna is a kickass accomplice. The redhead berates Jo for gambling in her (fake) drunk state, crossing her arms disapprovingly over her chest as Jo ups the ante on a pool game with some sleazebags who swallow their ruse hook, line and sinker. They walk away with five hundred dollars in their pockets, scooping another two-fifty later in the evening from a couple of truckers who roll in around ten pm.

And aside from scoring $750, Jo can’t remember the last time she had so much fun in a dive bar, unless it was when she first met Anna in that bar in Kentucky. For some reason screwing over misogynistic judgemental assholes is more fun with someone to laugh about it with after, to wink at when her opponent’s back is turned and to share a celebratory beer with afterwards.

They sleep in separate beds that night, and Jo can’t help but wish they didn’t.

In the morning, Jo goes to the auto shop to work on the truck while Anna runs to the grocery store to replenish their supplies, and they meet back at the motel with a working truck and a full cooler’s worth of food, water bottles and beer. They’re back on the road by noon, windows rolled down and both of their hair whipping in the breeze that fills the cab. Boston comes on the radio and Jo turns it up, both girls singing along with abandon, and Jo finds herself smiling across at Anna who grins right back.

They make it all the way into Texas by mid-afternoon, and Anna’s fast asleep when Jo pulls off the road. She reaches over, shaking Anna’s shoulder as she puts the truck into park.

“Hey,” she says softly. “Get up, I wanna show you something.” Anna grumbles, flicking her fingers dismissively in Jo’s direction without opening her eyes. Jo grins. “C’mon, sleepyhead, I’m serious. You’re going to like this, I promise.”

Anna groans, pushing herself into an upright position and shoving disheveled red hair out of her eyes. “I hate you,” she complains, but follows Jo out of the truck anyway. She stops dead at Jo’s side, her brow furrowing as she takes in the line of cars buried half in the sandy earth. Jo grins across at her, watching her try to puzzle out what she’s looking at.

Finally she turns to the blonde at her side. “What—where are we?”

“Amarillo, Texas,” Jo answers. “They call this the Cadillac Ranch.”

Anna’s brow furrows even further. “Like the song?”

“Like the song.” Jo grins, shoving the hand not carrying a grocery bag she’d picked up in the last town into the back pocket of her jeans as she starts towards the cars. “My dad took me here when I was a kid. I guess it’s been around since the seventies. They repaint them every few years for commercials and stuff, but in between they encourage graffiti.”

Anna follows her to the cars, peering quizzically at the graffitied underside of one of the old Cadillacs. She reaches out hesitantly to touch one of the tires, painted over and over with different colors of spray paint, a testimony to the many thousands of people who have made their way down this same highway, stopped at this same strange landmark. Jo digs in the plastic bag hooked around her wrist, producing a can of blue spray paint and nudging Anna’s shoulder with it. The red head looks down at it, staring, and then up at Jo, a question in her eyes.

Jo laughs, grabbing Anna’s hand and pressing the can into it. “Well c’mon, Michelangelo. Let’s see what you got.”

Anna stares down at the can in her hand, and then a slow smile spreads across her face. She reaches out and grabs the entire bag from Jo’s wrist, scurrying over to the next car with her prize while Jo laughs.

Even with such an inaccurate medium as spray paint and the underside of ancient, rusted up Cadillacs as her canvas, Anna’s talent is obvious. She paints in broad, sure strokes, a sunset over rippling water blooming across the metal. The lines are wobbly and imprecise, but it’s the vision of the thing, the way she uses the colors Jo had sprung for to bring the scene to life. She even paints a little sailboat in the foreground, approaching a sandy shoreline.

She turns to the next car and starts painting a meadow filled with flowers, so Jo liberates the red paint can from her and writes “ANNA + JO WERE HERE” on the nearest car in wobbly, crooked letters. One of the “n”s ends up looking like an “h” and the arms on the last “e” wind up being a little too long, but Anna still smiles warmly at Jo when she sees it. It makes Jo want to pull her in for a kiss, to wind her fingers into that bright red mane and tug on her belt loops until they’re pressed flush together, but she doesn’t.

“Do you want to leave something else?” Anna asks, her voice hesitant, almost timid. “For your dad?”

Jo stiffens, her heart stuttering. She should probably yell at Anna for bringing up Dad, for even suggesting it, but Jo did mention him first, and she finds that she does want to paint something for him, to leave some kind of memento to the man who’d taken her on trips and showed her this place, had shaped so much of who she is and died before his time.

She takes the black spray paint that Anna holds out to her wordlessly, and walks slowly to the next car, choosing to draw on the roof instead of the underside this time. She writes slowly and carefully, doing a far better job than she had on the other inscription.

_W. A. H._ she writes slowly in long, careful strokes, and then beneath it, _1956-1995_.

She steps back to Anna’s side to admire her handiwork. “William Anthony Harvelle,” she explains quietly, and Anna nods and holds up the other cans of paint.

“May I?” she asks softly, and Jo hesitates for a moment and then nods jerkily. Anna steps up to the car and draws a coat of arms around the words, crossed pistols forming an archway over the top and eagle’s wings sprouting from around it.

Jo’s throat goes dry; somehow without even knowing Bill Harvelle, Anna has gotten it right. She thinks she should thank Anna for the addition, but she can’t force the words past the lump in her throat. Instead, she gropes blindly at her side until her fingers close around Anna’s, and Anna just gives her hand a squeeze and holds her tight.

* * *

Dinner that night is purchased at the Big Texan Steak Ranch, in Amarillo, and Jo makes Anna climb up on top of the gigantic cowboy boot so she can take a picture of her before they go inside. Anna laughs as Jo contemplates the 72 ounce steak challenge before finally deciding on a regular old ten ouncer, which winds up being delicious. By the time they pile back into the truck, Anna at the wheel this time, they’re both flushed and full with amazing food, and they only make it a couple more hours down the road before they pull over to catch some shuteye.

It’s when they’re curled up together in the bed of the truck, nestled on a bed of ratty old blankets and worn, lumpy pillows, turned away from each other as has become their habit, that Anna says “Jo?”

Jo twists, turning to look over her shoulder at the other girl. “Yeah?”

Anna turns all the way around, her eyes wide and luminous in the faint light of the moon filtering in the little windows of the canopy. “Thank you,” she says sincerely, plucking at the blanket between them with her slender fingers. “For today.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Jo says, with an awkward half-shrug, deflecting as usual. “It was nothing.”

“It wasn’t nothing,” Anna insists. “That place was special to you. And it meant something that you shared it with me.” The tone of her voice makes Jo turn too, letting their bent knees brush under the blanket they have draped overtop of them both.

She stares across at Anna, studying her face, the shadows cast by the arch of her brow bone and curve of her cheek in the moonlight. She thinks of Anna’s suggestion that she leave something for her father, of the coat of arms Anna had drawn. “Yeah. You’re right.” It wasn’t nothing. It had been anything _but_ nothing. “And uh. You too.”

Anna smiles slowly, softly, and reaches out to slide her hand underneath Jo’s. Their fingers lace together easily, tangling loosely on top of the worn blankets, her thumb skating over Jo’s. Their eyes catch and hold, Jo’s heart fluttering in her chest and something heavy passing between them, something _more_. So Jo takes what feels like the next natural step, leaning across the already too-small space, her lips finding Anna’s in the dark.

Anna’s mouth is warm, her lips chapped by the dry Texas air, and she kisses back easily, smiling against Jo’s mouth. They kiss until they fall asleep, their fingers still laced together and bodies curved towards each other like parentheses underneath threadbare blankets in the bed of Jo’s truck.


	7. Chapter 7

Every couple of nights, Jo and Anna stop at a hotel so they can each have a hot shower and sleep in a real bed, groaning as the kinks that have developed from being cooped up in a nearly thirty year old truck day in and day out ease from their bodies. They savor those nights, ordering takeout or occupying a booth at a local diner or bar, making back what they spend on the room and the food and drinks in pool winnings. Sometimes they make a little extra, and Jo splits it meticulously, handing half of the bills to Anna and shoving the other half into the back pocket of her jeans.

Most nights though, they sleep on the road in the back of Jo’s truck. In the morning, they brush their teeth with water from a bottle, wandering off into the bush to relieve themselves, or if they’re lucky, making it to a gas station before too long. Breakfast, lunch and dinner is whatever they have left in the cooler and the box of dry goods in the back of the truck, often sandwiches and bags of chips washed down with bottled water. On one memorable stop, Jo comes out of the gas station bearing a bag of sour worms, and the pair of them spend the next hour chattering each other’s ears off before the sugar high wears off.

By the time they reached Texas, Anna had already discovered that Jo loves eighties rock, and she’s seen first hand that Jo is amazing at pool and even better at poker. She loves cheesy TV shows about paranormal investigators and can polish off a ten ounce steak in about five minutes flat. She prefers to wear her hair down not out of vanity, but because it’s more comfortable for driving and she can’t be fussed to do anything with it (although sometimes she’ll let Anna twist it into a braid that coils off to the side, hanging comfortably out of the way over one slender shoulder). She’s quick witted and sharp, and softer than she pretends to be, all the emotion hidden under an iron facade of toughness and grit. And in Texas at the Cadillac Ranch, Anna had learned by watching the pain lance through Jo’s body, just how much she misses her father.

That night, Anna also learned that Jo’s lip balm tastes like peppermint and tingles when they kiss. Since then they'd curled together instead of away from each other when they slept, waking up to lazy kisses, fingers brushing through hair and trailing over hips. Sometimes when Jo’s putting gas in the truck and Anna’s going in to the station to pay and pick up a couple of bags of chips, Jo will bump her with her hip on the way past, and smile a slow, closed-mouth smile, like they’ve got a secret, and Anna’s lips will tingle as though she can feel that balm on her lips already, as if they’d already kissed. Being with Jo is easy and exciting, every small touch making her skin hum with anticipation, but it can’t last. They’re on the clock, and whatever is going on between them will end when they get to California.

Anna discovers two more things about Jo when they park for the night outside of Santa Fe, New Mexico, the first being that she doesn't like to talk about her family. She's perfectly happy to listen to Anna talk about hers, to laugh at stories of Gabriel's antics before he disappeared, to scowl when she talks about Michael and Lucifer's epic fights. She smiles along with Anna when she talks about Castiel, how smart and kind he is, even if he's also a little weird. But as soon as Anna tries to turn the conversation back onto Jo's family, to learn more about her mother and the mysterious sort-of-foster brother she calls Ash, Jo clams up.

The second thing Anna learns about Jo that night is that the blonde has a temper.

Parked down a dusty road outside of town, the girls lie on the hood of the truck, leaning side by side against the windshield with a blanket beneath them. They're close enough to touch, the backs of their hands brushing when they move. The air is filled with the chirping of cicadas and the gentle rush of wind over the sandy earth. They stare upwards at the wide sky, sprinkled with stars, and something inside Anna’s chest clenches, a lonely ache squeezing tight around her heart.

"I miss my brothers," she says quietly, feeling Jo's eyes on her as the blonde turns to look at her.

"Even the annoying ones?" Jo asks, her voice gently teasing.

Anna chafes at her bare arms against the night’s chill and smiles, turning to meet Jo’s eyes. "Yes," she says quietly. "Even Michael. But mostly Cas." She waves a hand expansively, indicating the stars above them. She scoffs. “He wasn’t allowed to take it as a major but he has Astronomy and Physics as his science electives at school. He’s always been fascinated by the wonders of the universe. Back home, you can't see the stars like this, with the city lights polluting everything. I just really think he would love to see this."

Jo slides her fingers into the spaces between Anna's, squeezing her hand gently. "You could call him if you want. It’s a bit late in Ohio now but I’m sure he’d be happy to hear from you. You can use my cell."

Anna shakes her head, her thumb stroking absently over the back of Jo’s hand. For reasons she can't explain, the thought of calling home is terrifying. What if Michael answered? What if Castiel told Michael she called? What if Castiel answered and was too angry at her for leaving to even listen? "Not yet. If I call now then I have to take responsibility for running away from my duties and abandoning my family, and I'm not quite ready for that."

"You act like you left them to be eaten by wolves or something. What’s the worst that could happen? You really think they’re going to come after you?"

_Yes_ , Anna thinks. “I don’t know.”

Jo snorts derisively at her side. “C’mon Anna. You can’t seriously believe that they would do that. You’re a grown woman.”

“You don’t know them. My family isn’t the same as yours, Jo.”

Jo sucks in a sharp breath at the mention of her family, her body going rigid at Anna’s side. An uncomfortable silence falls over them, broken only by the quiet hum of the wind over the rocks and the soft sounds of insects in the night.

“How long has it been since the last time you called your mom?" Anna asks softly.

Jo swallows and looks away, shifting uncomfortably on the hood of the car. "A while," she says finally.

"I'm sure she misses you," Anna tries. "I know you said she doesn't care but I'm sure she worries about you. I'm sure she'd love to hear your voice."

"Don’t." Jo tugs her hand out of Anna's, wrenching away and sliding down off the hood of the truck. Her voice is cold and harsh, sharp in Anna’s ears. "Don't talk about things you don't understand. And don’t tell me what to do. You’re as bad as she is."

"Jo—" Anna tries, pleading, but she's already gone, throwing up a dismissive hand over her shoulder as she marches away from the truck, kicking at the tufts of desert grass growing valiantly along the road as she walks. Anna sighs, laying back against the truck windshield and fisting her hands roughly in her hair, watching Jo's retreating figure as she storms off into the night.

She should have left well enough alone. She knows Jo's family is a sore spot, even if she doesn't know all the details. Anna frowns up at the sky as a wisp of cloud rolls by, blotting out the stars directly overhead. Jo's right; Anna barely knows anything about Jo’s family situation except that she was raised by her mother after her father passed away when she was young and that Jo misses him badly. It's written on her skin, on her face whenever she mentions him, in the way her hands tighten on whatever she's holding. Anna had seen it when Jo shared that little piece of herself the other day, taking her to that place that he had shown her as a girl.

She’d opened up that day, let the mask fall away—and now Anna's gone and wrecked everything by pushing when she didn’t have the right.

Anna sighs, wrapping her arms tightly around herself, suddenly feeling the chill of the cool desert night. She pulls the blanket tight around herself, tucking it under her chin and drawing her knees up to her chest beneath it. She settles in to wait, working out her apology in her head as she stares up at the wide, starry sky, watching those wisps of cloud pass by.

Sooner than she had expected, the sound of booted feet dragging through the sand reaches her ears, and she lifts her head to watch Jo approach, her small form seeming to materialize out of the darkness. Anna sits up, the blanket pooling around her hips.

"Hey," she says softly, once Jo gets close enough.

"Hey," Jo replies, her voice stiff but no longer harsh or angry. "Listen—"

"I'm sorry," Anna blurts, interrupting Jo before she can continue. "That was none of my business and it’s not my place to lecture you. I shouldn't presume to know anything about you or your family." She sits up, staring across the hood of the truck at Jo. "I'm sorry," she repeats.

Jo studies her cautiously, and then she's moving, crossing around the front of the truck until she's standing at Anna's side. "It's okay," she says, her voice rough and used, as if she'd been yelling. "I know you were trying to help." She takes a deep breath and reaches out to snag Anna's hand off the hood. Her hand is cold in Anna's, and Anna automatically brings her other hand over to chafe Jo's hand between them, trying to warm them with the friction.

"My mom—she and I haven’t exactly had the best relationship since Dad died. Too similar, I think, or at least that's what everyone says." Jo stares down at their joined hands, unable to meet Anna's eyes. "We fought a lot, the last few months before I left. She wanted me to go back to school, but—" She shrugs, her mouth twisting sardonically. "I was a freak with a knife collection. I never belonged there."

Jo pauses, and Anna doesn't try to fill the silence, waiting patiently until she speaks again. "I know Mom just wanted the best for me, but we had some pretty epic fights. She wasn't happy when I ran away... Ash says she worries about me a lot. I call him about once a month, just to let them know I'm not dead."

She looks up then, her eyes wide and dark in the pale starlight. "You're right though. I should call her. Time to suck it up and get over myself." Her mouth curves into a genuine smile then as she looks up at Anna. "I fucking hate that you're right."

She reaches up with her free hand, curling it around the back of Anna's neck, tugging her down to meet her. She kisses her apology into Anna’s mouth, soft and tentative at first but growing more and more heated the longer they stay locked together.

Jo pulls away just long enough to climb up onto the hood with Anna, crawling between her bent legs to cover Anna’s body with her own. Jo’s bare skin is cold everywhere it brushes against Anna’s, but the warmth of her body seeps through the thin fabric of her flannel shirt, washing over Anna’s body. This is the closest they’ve ever been, and Anna’s heart stutters in her chest, heat and excitement and anticipation racing through her as Jo moves over her until their lips meet again. Her tongue is hot where it slips into Anna’s mouth, one hand fisting tight in Anna’s hair as she braces her forearms against the windshield at Anna’s back.

Anna sighs into Jo’s mouth, wrapping her arm around Jo’s waist and tugging her in tighter, arching up against Jo’s body, sparks flickering from between her legs where Jo’s hips rock up against hers. They kiss hungrily, bodies slotted and twined together, fingers tangled in hair, tugging at belt loops and buttons.

Finally Jo sits up on her knees and pulls Anna up with her so they can slide off the hood together. Without a word, she leads Anna to the back of the truck, and Anna lets herself be pulled up into their bed of quilts where Jo’s mouth finds hers again, licking her way inside as she eases the clothes from her body. They laugh together when Anna’s arm bangs against one of the windows as Jo frees it from the sleeve, swallowing up each others’ giggles and falling back together. They ease the jeans from each others’ hips, Anna first, then Jo, and Anna trails her hands down Jo’s tight stomach and across her slender hips, sighing as Jo cups her breast, thumbing across her nipple. They come together in gasps and breathless laughter, arching beneath the touch of each others’ hands, crying out one after the other as they tease each other with clever hands and soft lips.

Afterwards, curled up in blankets and coiled together, red hair mingling with blonde on the pillows beneath their heads, Jo strokes a finger over the arch of Anna’s brow, her touch tingling over Anna’s skin.

“Hey Jo?” Anna whispers. Jo hums her acknowledgement and keeps trailing her fingertips over the planes of Anna’s face. “Do you really have a knife collection?” Anna asks, biting her lip in a futile attempt to hold back her smile.

Jo turns her head, muffling her laugh with the pillow under her head. “Yeah. Is that a problem?”

Anna shakes her head, grinning. “Not if you promise to show me tomorrow.”

Jo laughs again, not bothering to stifle it this time, and tips her head to kiss Anna’s nose. “Yeah, okay.” Her hand slides around to the back of Anna’s neck, and she sucks in a hesitant breath. “This,” she says softly, “whatever’s going on between us—”

Anna stretches up, silencing Jo with her lips. She knows what Jo’s going to say—that it’s just for now, they’re just having fun while they’re spending time together—but she finds she doesn’t need to hear it. “It’s okay,” she says softly, smiling with as she brushes a curl of blonde away from Jo’s face. “It’s okay that it’s just right now.” And, she thinks, as she closes her eyes and curls closer into Jo’s heat, it _is_ okay. Right now, she just wants to enjoy what they have, however short of a time they have it for.


	8. Chapter 8

“Hey Jo?”

“Yeah, Milton?” The blonde flicks a glance across at Anna, peering at her through the tinted glass of her sunglasses where they’re perched on the arch of her nose. She groans when she sees the map spread out across Anna’s knees. “You’re not going to ask me to take some crazy ass detour are you? ‘Cause we’re already so close to California. I can almost smell the salt.”

Anna rolls her eyes at Jo’s dismay. “Just the Grand Canyon,” she wheedles. Jo raises her eyebrows and Anna points at the map unnecessarily. “The _Grand Canyon_ , Jo!”

Jo grins crookedly. “C’mon, Anna, what kind of tour guide do you take me for. You think I’m gonna drag you all the way across the US without showing you the Grand-fucking-Canyon?” Anna scowls across the cab at Jo, clearly unimpressed with her teasing, but the expression is so cute that it just makes Jo laugh and reach for her hand, twining their fingers together on the seat between them.

They wind up at the South Rim of the Canyon at sunset, and Anna is seemingly struck dumb by the spectacle, her mouth gaping open and green eyes wide as she stares out the windows of the truck and down into the gorge. Not that Jo can blame her. The dying light of the sun strikes the easternmost walls of the divide, bathing the layers with warm light and bringing out the bright, burnt reds and oranges of the rock. The western walls cast shadows on the rocks below, the wash of color from the sunlit sides standing out against the dark backdrop. Gauzy clouds stained peach by the setting sun crawl lazily over the gorge, soft and effervescent over the cliff faces below.

“Nice, huh?” Jo asks, shooting fleeting glances at Anna as she drives, laughing at the open wonder on the redhead’s face, like a kid seeing her first Christmas tree all lit up. She remembers feeling the same way, the first time she came here what seems like a lifetime ago, just a kid herself.

“Nice doesn’t begin to cover it,” Anna says softly, her voice reverent and eyes wide as she stares out the window. When she can finally tear her eyes away for a moment, Anna bends at the waist, digging in the bag at her feet until she comes up with one of the cheap-ass windup cameras she’d bought at one of their stops. She tries to line up the camera through the window and grumbles something about dirty windows that Jo tries hard not to take offense to.

And then—“Anna what the hell?!” Jo shouts because Anna is undoing her seatbelt and rolling down the window, kneeling on the passenger seat and dangling herself precariously out of the window of the moving vehicle. She braces her thighs against the passenger door, wind whipping her hair across her face as she takes photo after photo of the landscape rolling by.

“You’re insane!” Jo cries. “You’re going to get yourself killed!” Anna either can’t hear her or she’s ignoring her, so Jo slows down as much as she dares on the highway, waving the honking vehicles behind her on past. She lets Anna get a few shots in and then reaches out and drags her back in the truck by the waistband of her shorts, yanking her unceremoniously back into her seat. Anna lets herself be reeled in, laughing.

“I’m driving with a crazy person,” Jo growls at her, but she can’t help the smile that twitches on her lips when she takes in Anna’s windblown hair, her eyes wide and bright and cheeks flushed with exhilaration. Her excitement is infectious, pulling a laugh out of Jo’s chest in spite of herself.

Anna flips through the guide she’d picked up at their last stop, reading snippets to Jo as she drives. They decide together that they will bypass the South Rim of the Canyon in favor of the less-touristy North Rim where they can enjoy the landmark without the hordes of children and selfie-taking morons that Jo imagines swarm the South Rim. Anna laughs and protests that she’s likely exaggerating the crowds but agrees anyway, claiming that she would love an opportunity to sit for a while and draw in peace.

They make the drive through the park to the North Rim over the next several hours, Anna snapping pictures of the Colorado River and a herd of Bison grazing by the side of the road, her camera going off until it gets too dark to take pictures.

By the time they pull into a campground it’s nearly midnight, and both girls tumble out of the truck, groaning and stretching cramped limbs. They walk down to the store at the entrance to the campground, fingers hooked loosely together as they make their leisurely way down the gravel roads, and after they pay for the next two nights, Jo springs for a bundle of firewood.

Jo splits the wood, liberating her axe from Anna before the redhead—who has clearly never been camping before in her life—chops off her toe. It’s hard work and before long, Jo has worked up a sweat, a sheen across her forehead and cooling on the small of her back.

“Get the fire started?” Jo asks as she digs around in the food supplies in the truck, stifling a laugh at the determined look Anna gives the tinder Jo stacked at the fireside. Turns out she doesn’t have anything to worry about because Anna is a whiz at fire, coaxing a blaze from some of the smaller bits of wood and sloughed off bark before Jo emerges from the truck.

“Way to go, Milton.” Anna grins up at her, jumping in surprise when Jo drops an unopened bag of marshmallows in her lap.

“You’re getting the full camping experience tonight,” Jo says. “It’s a travesty that you’ve never had a s’more before.”

Anna scoffs, watching as Jo searches the bush for a likely branch. “Are they really that good? Isn’t it just chocolate and a marshmallow and graham crackers? What’s so special about that?”

Jo looks up brandishing a long, narrow stick in Anna’s direction. “Just you wait and see. It’s like an orgasm in your mouth.”

Anna grins wickedly. “That good?” Her eyes flicker down Jo’s body. “Must be something special, then.”

“Don’t look at me like that,” Jo warns, emerging with a pair of branches that will work for roasting sticks once she gets them sharpened. “You’re not getting sex until you try these.” She drops down on the bench beside Anna, their legs touching, and gets to work with her penknife, sharpening both sticks to a point.

Anna burns her first marshmallow, yelping and waving her stick around like an idiot to try and put out the flames while Jo rolls around on her seat, laughing. When the blackened mess of sugar and charcoal falls into the fire with a sizzle, Jo grabs the stick and shoves a second one on for her, which Anna takes much more care with. She groans around the first hot mouthful of s’more, a string of marshmallow clinging to her lips that Jo just has to lean in to kiss away.

They each make their way through three s’mores, and then they roast marshmallows until they can’t eat anymore, sipping from beers that Jo pulled out of the cooler earlier. They watch the flames flicker in the pit, letting the warmth wash over them, just relaxing and enjoying each other’s company.

By firelight, Anna is even more beautiful than usual, the flickering light dancing in her eyes and casting shadows on the sharp ridges of her cheekbones. Jo leans in to the warmth of Anna’s body, circling her free hand around Anna’s waist and slipping cool fingertips under the hem of her shirt to dance over the curve of her hip.

Anna turns towards her at the touch, smiling, and leans in for another sticky, sugary kiss. This time they don’t pull away, lips moving softly over each other, smiling into each other’s mouths. They kiss until the fire dies down, and then they pack up the food and climb up into the truck, curling up together beneath the blankets and drifting off to sleep between one press of lips and the next.

* * *

They make an early start the next morning, wanting to spend the rest of the day exploring the Canyon. The campground has coin-operated showers that they indulge in, after which Jo lets Anna comb her hair into a loose braid with sure, slender fingers, her eyes fluttering closed at the gentle scrape of Anna’s fingernails over her scalp.

Anna complains that all her shirts are either too light or too heavy, and steals a blue and green plaid flannel from Jo’s bag that she tugs on with one eyebrow cocked as if daring Jo to argue. The plaid looks good on her, hanging open over a black tank top with a tiny edging of lace on the neckline, a pair of sturdy denim shorts and her ever-present Converses, so Jo just laughs, leaning in to straighten the collar and planting a kiss under the line of Anna’s jaw.

“You should wear my clothes more often,” she says, “it’s kinda hot.” Anna giggles and turns into the kiss.

Jo drives them from the campground to the Visitor Centre, where they park the truck and start the hike to Bright Angel Point, which Anna’s guide (that she won’t let go of for love or money) claims is the highest overlook point in the Canyon. It’s a hot day and soon they shed their outer shirts, knotting them around their hips. Jo even caves and uses some of Anna’s sunscreen, noting as she takes it that the lotion Anna had slathered on earlier isn’t stopping the sprinkling of pale freckles appearing across the bridge of Anna’s nose.

They take turns carrying Anna’s backpack which they’d filled with bottles of water, various snacks and pre-assembled sandwiches, along with Anna’s sketchbook which she refused to leave behind. Anna pauses at several points along the trail to take pictures, moving right up to the edge of the cliff face.

“I didn’t realize there wouldn’t be any guard rails,” she calls back to Jo, as she lowers her camera. “I’m glad though; they would just take away from the scenery.” She frowns when she sees Jo standing resolutely back on the path. “What are you doing way over there? Come look!”

“I can see just fine from right here, thanks,” Jo says, setting her jaw.

A slow smile stretches across Anna’s lips. “Jo,” she asks slowly, “are you afraid of heights?”

Jo rolls her eyes. “Not like, a lot. But you’re standing on a fucking cliff, Anna. I’m not going to risk falling to my death when I can see everything just as well from the safety of the path.”

Anna laughs affectionately, and Jo flushes, starting back down the path, grumbling. Anna catches up quickly, coiling her arms around Jo from behind and kissing the tender space behind her ear.

“You’re afraid of heights,” Anna whispers, her breath tickling the soft hairs at Jo’s hairline and sending a pleasant shiver down her spine. “That’s adorable.”

“Ugh,” Jo complains, but she leans into Anna’s arms, draping her hands over Anna’s where they coil around Jo’s waist.

Anna laughs, nuzzling at Jo’s neck. “It’s good to know,” she insists. “I was beginning to think you weren’t afraid of anything.” Jo rolls her eyes but turns her head to capture Anna’s lips in a kiss before they separate and continue down the trail.

Bright Angel Point thankfully does have guard rails, reassuring Jo enough that she can stand next to Anna at the rail and look down into the Canyon. There are a few other tourists taking photos up here, but not enough for Jo to feel crowded. She leans her forearms on the rail, gazing out over the picturesque canyon, remembering the last time she stood here with her father at her side.

Suddenly Anna turns from the railing and snaps a shot of Jo looking out into the gorge, grinning deviously from behind the camera. Jo glares at her and takes a step back when the expression on Anna’s face turns from mischievous to contemplating.

“No,” Jo says preemptively, pointing a warning finger at the redhead.

“C’mon, Jo,” Anna pleads, smiling guilelessly like the manipulative minx she is, and Jo’s powerless to resist. Grumbling she steps up beside Anna, their backs to the Canyon, and hooks her arm around Anna’s waist. Anna’s throws an arm around Jo’s neck and holds out the camera to take the shot, firmly throwing them both into the ranks of the selfie-taking morons Jo had so wanted to avoid.

Seriously, that face is like a super power.

On the way back up the trail, Anna clambers up on a giant boulder, shading her eyes with her hand and peering out over the Canyon. “What the fuck are you doing?” Jo asks frantically. “Get down from there.”

“It’s perfectly safe,” Anna says, sitting down in the shade of a gnarled tree that curves over the rock.

“Fine,” Jo says, throwing up her hands in surrender. “But don’t come crying to me if you fall to your death.”

“That makes no sense.” Anna digs in the backpack, pulling out her sketchbook and one of the sandwiches, and passes the bag down to Jo. “You should come up here. The view is amazing.”

“No thank you,” Jo says with haughty dignity, sitting instead with her back propped against the boulder. “My view is fine from down here.” She digs into her own lunch, reading from a worn paperback that’s she’d bought for a dollar at the last gas station from their used book shelf while Anna sketches above her. When she’s finished eating, she takes advantage of Anna’s preoccupation to snap a couple pictures of her own including one of Anna up on her rock, totally lost in her drawing and oblivious to Jo’s attention. Some of the hair has come loose from the tight bun Anna had woven at the nape of her neck, the bright strands twisting across her pale cheek in the slight breeze. Her shapely legs are bent at the knee, sketchbook resting against them as she draws, her hand moving in wide, swooping strokes across the paper.

Jo’s stomach flips as she watches. They’re only a day, maybe two, from their final destination, where she’ll drop Anna off with her friend and take off again for who knows where. When she leaves Anna behind it’ll be back to hustling pool by herself and lonely nights in the back of her truck, no partner in crime to laugh at dumb rednecks with, no warm body to curl up next to. She won’t have Anna to tease on the long stretches of empty highway, to try to bring a flush to those pale cheeks, to laugh with in stunned surprise when Anna shoots back with an unexpectedly snarky reply or dirty joke.

This whole impromptu partnership was supposed to be nothing, just a little bit of company on the road and maybe a couple of gas bills split to save money. Instead it’s become something more. They weren’t supposed to hit it off, weren’t supposed to kiss, weren’t supposed to have sex or start sleeping curled up together. They weren’t supposed to talk about their shitty families and admit their fears and flaws to each other, and there certainly weren’t supposed to be feelings involved. It terrifies Jo how much she thinks she’ll miss having Anna beside her in that truck when she hits the road and drives away alone.

Anna sets aside her sketchbook, smiling when she sees Jo looking up at her. Jo smiles back, pushing the depressing thoughts from her mind as Anna slides down from her perch.

“How’d you do?” Jo asks. Anna turns the sketchbook to show her the drawing and it’s beautiful as always, layers of red rock beneath a blue sky, shadows of clouds casting shapes on the stone below.

“I wish I had paints,” Anna says regretfully, flipping the book closed and glancing back out into the Canyon. She smiles ruefully. “Bit harder to pack in a backpack, though.”

“Maybe you can come back one day,” Jo suggests. “Plan the trip properly instead of showing up on a whim with some chick you just met.”

She means to say it lightly and she thinks she manages it until Anna smiles sadly. “You’re not just ‘some chick’, Jo. And for what it’s worth, I’m glad you’re here with me.” She breaks out into a sudden wide grin, green eyes dancing. “Even if you are afraid of heights.”

Jo groans, rolling her eyes and shoving Anna who laughs. “Shut up,” Jo gripes, but Anna reaches out and grabs her wrist, reeling her in for a kiss.


	9. Chapter 9

The evening after Jo takes Anna to the Grand Canyon, they roast hotdogs over the fire at their campsite, another first for Anna, and follow them up with s’mores for dessert again upon Anna’s request. Hotdogs cooked over an open flame taste better than any she remembers eating before, and s’mores are quickly climbing the list of her favorite desserts, landing just behind chocolate cake in first place.

Then again, she wonders if it’s the s’mores themselves that she loves, or licking the sticky remnants of marshmallow and melted chocolate from Jo’s lips, tasting them on her tongue when they kiss at the fireside.

Kissing leads to hands tangled in hair and caressing through their clothes, and Anna finds herself in Jo’s lap, sucking kisses down her slender neck. When the fire finally dwindles away to nothing, Anna takes Jo by the hand and drags her over to the truck where they fall into each other, making love under the pile of blankets and falling asleep in a tangle of sweaty limbs and tangled hair.

The next morning, they shower again because they can, washing away stickiness left behind by marshmallowy fingers and sweat and dirt from their hike the day before. Afterwards, they pack up the truck and are back on the road again by nine in the morning, eating breakfast on the road. Anna’s map says that they could be in San Jose, where Charlie and Dorothy live, by nightfall. They’re unusually quiet as they pull back out of the campground and onto the highway, the knowledge that this could be their last day on the road together weighing heavy on them both.

Anna watches the desert fly by out the window of Jo’s truck, the radio playing a Foreigner song that she recognizes but isn’t in the mood to sing along to. At her side, Jo is quiet too, worrying at her lower lip as she stares determinedly out the windshield. Anna wonders what Jo is thinking, if she is dreading this too, wondering how the hell they went from being strangers to _this_. Eight days ago, Anna was a runaway, alone and terrified on the road, far away from everything she knew. She doesn’t even feel like the same person she was when she walked out the door of the Milton family house, waving cordially to the neighbor, Naomi, so she wouldn’t suspect she was running away.

She’s seen so much these past few days, so many marvels of this beautiful country that she hadn’t even fathomed before beyond the vague understanding that they were out there, visible in books and on the internet. But it’s more than that; it’s seeing those things with Jo, spending every waking moment with another person, a person who makes her laugh and smile and drives her crazy in every way. They’d bickered and fought, they’d teased and laughed, they’d kissed and made love. By rights Jo should still be a stranger to her, but it doesn’t feel that way at all.

If Anna had her way, she realizes, she would want Jo to stay with her.

But this was never supposed to be that, was never supposed to be _anything_ , and Anna resolves that when they get to California, she’ll let Jo go. She won’t ask Jo to stay with her in California, no matter how much she may want to.

They make their way through the Mojave National Preserve, and Anna uses up the last of the pictures in her last camera, snapping shots of Joshua trees and cacti and coulis as they roll past the windows of Jo’s truck. She makes Jo stop the truck and pose in front of the sign for the preserve, the hilariously put-upon face that Jo makes sending Anna into fits of laughter so that she can barely hold the camera steady to get the shot. The last frame in the camera is another selfie (to Jo’s dismay), in which both of them pose on either side of a tall cactus pretending to kiss it while gingerly avoiding its needles.

Just after they cross the California border, Anna pays for what is likely the last tank of gas she’ll buy on their trip. She lingers in the store, picking through the racks of candy. She’s excited to see Charlie, to meet Dorothy, who she’s heard so much about, but she doesn’t want it to be over. Not yet.

Sighing, she hands the bored-looking attendant a few bills to cover a bag of M&Ms for herself and some salt and vinegar chips for Jo and the gas, and makes her way back out to the truck where Jo is waiting. She hands the chips to Jo and breaks into her own candy as Jo peels out of the parking lot and back onto the road.

They’re silent for a few minutes and then Jo reaches to turn down the radio. “So,” she says slowly, uncharacteristically tense, “are you in a hurry to get to Charlie’s tonight?”

Anna shakes her head, maybe a little more enthusiastically than she should. “No, why?”

Jo shrugs. “I just figured maybe we could stay somewhere else tonight, play some pool, get a burger. You know, last night sorta deal.” She smiles crookedly, a dimple showing in her cheek as she winks sidelong at Anna.

Anna sorts, rolling her eyes affectionately, even as excitement races through her. One last night. “I would like that very much,” she says sincerely.

“Awesome,” Jo says, grinning broadly. She pulls the map from inside the console between them and shoves it at Anna. “Find me some dinky little town where we can spend the night away from all the Malibu barbies.” She grins and reaches to turn the radio up and Anna smiles.

This time, they both sing along.

* * *

It’s cold and cloudy when Jo pulls into the small town of Pacific Grove, California, nothing like the California that Anna always pictured when she talked to Charlie on the phone. Anna’s map puts the town about two miles west of Monterey, and about eighty miles away from Charlie and Dorothy’s apartment in San Jose. They could easily make it to Charlie’s place before dark, but they don’t discuss the impracticality of their choice to pay for one more night in a motel when they could sleep for free at Charlie’s. This is just for them, one last night just the two of them before the real world comes calling.

They check in at the motel and drive down to the beach where the waves are lapping at the sand, leaving behind imprints of their caress. Out of the shelter of the buildings, the wind coming off the ocean is freezing, but they shuck their shoes and socks anyway, rolling their jeans up to their knees to keep them dry. Anna pulls on her heavy knit cardigan while Jo tugs a worn, baggy sweatshirt proclaiming the cracked and faded “Nebraska Huskers” label on over her t-shirt. They both squeal at the first wash of the waves over their bare feet, wincing and hopping at the cold until they get used to it and their feet go numb.

Jo walks a few paces away from Anna, closer to the water, letting the waves lap around her ankles. The water fills up her footprints and washes them away as if they were never there, and the wind whips the golden waves of her hair around her head. She stares out over the water, watching the seabirds wheel helplessly in the wind, oblivious to Anna’s attention.

Anna wonders sadly if she and Jo had met under other circumstances if things would have been different, if they would be together properly, in a real relationship. Maybe if this exact set of circumstances hadn’t thrown them together, they wouldn’t be together at all. As she watches Jo’s nose wrinkle against the spray thrown up by the wind, Anna can’t help but be thankful for this small piece of whatever this is that they’ve shared.

Jo turns and catches her looking, and Anna expects a retort, some kind of remark bemoaning her sentimentality or teasing her for staring. Instead, her brown eyes go soft, her mouth quirking in a bittersweet smile for just one moment, one fleeting second during which her guard is down and Anna can see through to what she knows is underneath.

And then her mouth cracks into a grin and she says “I know I’m hot, Milton, but you should at least try to be discreet,” and Anna laughs, lurching forward to shove her shoulder playfully.

They sit together on a piece of driftwood, heedless of the moisture soaking into their pants, digging bare toes into the cold sand. Their hands rest on the wood, pinky fingers barely touching between them as they stare out into the water, the wind catching in the loose strands of their hair. Jo asks about Charlie and Dorothy, teasing Anna about her past relationship with Charlie until Anna brings up the oft-mentioned Dean which makes Jo flush uncharacteristically pink and shove Anna playfully with her shoulder.

They laugh and chatter aimlessly together, words mixed with chaste brushes of lips and fingers and thighs, neither mentioning their impending separation, until they both start to shiver in the cold, salty air and walk back to the truck hand in hand, toes frozen and numb to the sand beneath them.

At the motel room, they change into fresh clothes that don’t have the tang of salt lingering around them, and they walk the few blocks to a dive bar much like the one they met in and all the others they’d stopped at along the way. They shoot some pool together, sipping beers and sharing an enormous plate of nachos, and then they turn their talents to hustling a pair of leather-clad bikers that wander in, and they walk away with two hundred dollars apiece, cutting out early to meander slowly back to the motel.

By the time Anna turns the key in the sticky lock, jiggling it to work it open like the man at the front desk had warned them they would have to, Jo is draped over Anna’s back, cold hands sliding up the flat of her stomach to rest beneath her breasts. She breathes against the back of Anna’s neck, her nose tracing up and down through the loose strands of Anna’s hair, sending tingles up and down Anna’s spine and making her breath catch in her throat.

The door finally opens and they tumble inside, Anna tugging Jo along with her and turning in her arms to cradle her face and bring their lips together. It’s urgent but slow, the kiss hard and full of need, but not rough or fast. Jo’s arms coil tight around Anna’s waist as she walks her backwards towards the bed, hungry tongue working alongside Anna’s and making her moan.

Anna feels the dance of Jo’s fingers over the bare skin of her back as she drags Anna’s top over her head, tossing it heedlessly to the floor behind her. She pulls Jo’s shirt off too, her hands moving to work the clasp of Jo’s bra and arching to let Jo work hers open as well. They make quick work of each others’ jeans and then Anna’s legs hit the edge of the bed and she slides back onto it, pulling Jo down with her.

Jo’s stomach is cold against Anna’s, chilled by the night air through her thin henley, but her breasts are warm where they press soft and round against Anna’s. Anna cups the back of Jo’s neck and drags her down to kiss her again, mouths whispering together between hastily swallowed gasps as they rock together, Anna’s free hand skimming the curve of Jo’s waist and sliding into the cotton of her panties to tug her tighter, closer.

Jo's mouth finds her nipple and Anna arches into the wet heat, a moan slipping past her lips as a warm rush of pleasure pools low in her abdomen. Her hands fist in Jo's hair, tangling in the blonde waves and Jo gives a responding tug with her teeth, pulling a gasp out of Anna before she moves, sliding lower. She kisses her way down Anna's torso, hands sliding over the dip of Anna’s waist and the curve of her flared hips and finally hooking in the lacy white cotton of Anna’s panties. Jo kisses the flat of Anna’s stomach as she rolls the cotton off of Anna's hips and Anna's stomach muscles jump in response.

Jo draws back far enough to slide the panties off of Anna’s legs, kissing her way back up to the juncture of her thighs. Her eyes never leave Anna's, burning and dark with desire, her gaze making Anna's breath catch in her throat. Jo’s hands grip tight around Anna’s hips, thumbs digging into the crease of her thighs and then her mouth is pressed between Anna’s legs _,_ wet and hot and insistent, sending waves of pleasure lancing up through her body. Anna cries out, rolling her hips against Jo’s mouth, throwing her head back helplessly as Jo slips two fingers inside.

She practically sobs Jo’s name as she comes, one hand clenched in the sheets and the other in Jo’s hair, and Jo doesn’t stop until Anna falls back, boneless, on the bed.

“Sorry,” Anna whispers breathlessly as she works her stiff fingers free from the tangled blonde waves of Jo’s hair.

Jo grins crookedly, looking up at Anna through thick, dark lashes as she kisses her way up Anna’s torso. “Don’t be sorry, baby. You’re amazing.” Her lips fall on Anna’s nipple and Anna gasps, little aftershocks of pleasure dancing between her legs as Jo sucks gently at the sensitive flesh.

“Come here,” Anna says, her voice low and husky, and Jo obliges, leaning over to meet Anna’s lips in a kiss. Anna can taste herself on Jo’s lips and she sweeps her tongue inside, swallowing Jo’s groan.

Anna slips her fingers over the curve of Jo’s hip, dipping down in between her thighs to stroke her over her underwear. Sliding her free hand around the back on Jo’s neck, she rolls them until Jo is lying beneath her, a wild tangle of gold spread out around her head against the pillows. Anna ducks her head to kiss Jo again, sucking gently on her bottom lip and slipping her hand inside Jo’s panties. Jo gasps, her hips lifting to meet the searching touch, and Anna smiles against Jo’s mouth, sliding away down the bed to return the favor.

Jo’s panties join Anna’s on the floor, and it isn’t long until her thighs are tensing under Anna’s fingers and her taut body is arching off the bed, her lips parted in a broken gasp.

Anna licks her lips and crawls back up the bed to coil around Jo, their bodies fitting together like puzzle pieces: hip to hip, chest to chest, arms wrapped around each other and noses brushing cheeks. They kiss slowly, just gentle presses of lips and touches of tongue.

Eventually they pull back far enough to see each other, and Anna wants to say so many things but doesn’t think she can say any of them. She settles for staring at Jo’s face, memorizing the curve of her cheek and the full swell of her lip, the way her eyelashes flutter against the flushed skin and shutter over sleepy bedroom eyes.

“Where will you go?” Anna asks finally, her voice barely more than a whisper.

Jo’s eyes flicker over Anna’s face, and she reaches to comb her fingers through the tangled strands of Anna’s hair. Anna sighs into the gentle scrape of Jo’s short nails over her scalp, eyelids going heavy at the sensation, and watches the plump flesh of Jo’s lower lip disappear between her teeth as she sucks it in, chewing as she thinks.

Finally, she shrugs, the bare shoulder not pressed into the mattress moving up and down. “Dunno,” she says, her voice nonchalant. “Maybe I’ll head back home. I guess it’s time.”

Anna smiles slowly, meeting Jo’s gaze. “Your mother will be so happy to see you.”

Jo shrugs again, her eyes skittering away from Anna’s to land somewhere between her lips and her collarbones above the sheet tucked around them. “Gotta go to Kansas anyway and give Dean shit for not fixing up my wheels right. Might as well go through Nebraska on the way.”

Anna leans in to press a kiss to the sensitive place under Jo's jaw, hiding her smile against Jo's throat. She hadn't been there when Jo called Ellen, waiting in their blanket nest in the back of the truck while the other girl wandered down the road with her phone pressed to her ear, but she'd seen the high flush in her cheeks when she got back, the bright, glassy moisture in her fiercely determined eyes, felt the desperation in the kiss Jo bestowed upon her and the urgent clutch of Jo’s fingers. She'd been more affected by the call then she'd wanted to let on, but Anna had seen it, had let Jo distract her with kisses and touches, recognizing the desperate wish to never discuss what had transpired.

She could see how much Jo misses her mother, had guessed how much Ellen misses her, too.

"Have you—" Jo's voice is rough and she pauses to clear her throat before she speaks again. "Have you figured out what you're going to do? After?"

Anna shakes her head, nose skimming against Jo's jaw with the motion. "Hope that Charlie and Dorothy don’t mind me crashing with them for a while, for starters. I don’t know how long I’ll need to stay with them. Then, I don't know. Get a job I guess." She smiles slowly, nudging Jo's ankle with her foot as she draws back to grin up at the blonde. "At least I know how to hustle pool now, so I'm not completely without marketable skills."

Jo laughs and ducks her head to kiss Anna again, a gentle press of lips. “For the record," she says, the words slipping from her mouth into Anna's, “I’m going to miss my fellow hustler.” Under the sheet, Jo's free hand finds Anna's, their fingers notching together, and Anna's heart thumps frantically against her ribcage before she shoves down the unwanted burst of excitement and wistfulness that fills her chest. She reaches to click off the lamp on her side of the bed, plunging them into darkness.

"Goodnight Jo," Anna whispers quietly, and she feels rather than sees Jo's lips curve into an answering smile.

"'Night, Anna."

Anna closes her eyes and chases sleep but her mind can't seem to slow down enough to catch it. Instead she lies still beside Jo in the dark, listening to the steady in-out of her breath, and she can't prove it but she thinks that maybe Jo is lying awake too.


	10. Chapter 10

Jo wakes up tangled with Anna, having dropped off to sleep sometime in the early hours of the morning after lying awake for what felt like half the night. She kisses Anna awake and then rises without comment, dragging on clothes that are in desperate need of a wash. She hopes Anna's friend has a washing machine that she'll be able to borrow before she takes off on the road again. Washing her shit in motel bathtubs always leaves something to be desired.

The drive to San Jose is unbearably quiet, Anna staring stoically out the front windshield of the truck, her face impassive. This whole situation fucking blows, way more than Jo thought it would, way more than she could have ever anticipated, and she doesn't know what to do with that. She wants to ask Anna to change her plans and come with her when she leaves again, but Anna has a place to go, friends waiting for her, and Jo is a good for nothing drifter with no job, a strained relationship with her mother and all the worldly possessions that a shitty truck can hold. So Jo counters her crappy mood and the depressing stillness in the truck by filling it with inane chatter, managing to coax a smile or two out of Anna before she gives up and just cranks up the radio. They find a classic rock station halfway between Monterey and San Jose, which Jo sings along with obnoxiously until Anna laughs and starts to sing along too.

Charlie’s apartment is easy enough to find, and she must be making decent money because the place is nice. It’s nearly noon when Jo parks the truck in one of the visitor stalls, both girls peering up through the windshield at the burnt orange building stretching up overhead. It’s just a few stories, and each apartment has its own balcony encircled by glass walls that Jo guesses would come up at a convenient height to rest one’s elbow on. Some of the residents have barbecues on their balconies, while others have lounge furniture and gigantic umbrellas to block out the sun which is out today, thankfully.

“Well,” Jo says, “this is it.”

Anna swallows, her eyes flicking to meet Jo’s and then away, back to the building. “It is,” she says softly.

They pull their bags out of the back of the truck and trudge up the stairs to the third floor, Anna glancing at the numbers on the doors until she finds 742. Loud music can be heard coming from inside the apartment, even muffled as it is by the door. Anna stares at it for a moment, looking nervous for reasons that Jo can’t comprehend, but before Jo can tease her for it, she seems to steel herself, raising her hand to knock firmly.

They wait, but there’s no answer. “Maybe she didn’t hear you.” Jo suggests.

Anna’s brow furrows quizzically and she knocks again, a bit more forcefully. This time, a muffled voice shouts over the music, the words indiscernible over the noise. A second voice answers, closer, and then the door is being jerked open to reveal a tall brunette with high-arched eyebrows, her hair parted at the side and swept back into a knot at the nape of her neck.

“You must be Anna,” she says loudly over the music, arching one brow at the redhead, who nods. One side of the woman’s mouth tugs up in a smile, her eyes sliding over to Jo, and then she’s stepping aside, holding out an arm in welcome. “Charlie’s in the middle of a game, but she’ll be right out.” She rolls her eyes, the expression fond, and Anna laughs.

“That sounds like Charlie,” Anna agrees.

The woman hums in amused agreement, nodding. “I’m Dorothy,” she says, extending a hand which Anna shakes.

“I’ve heard so much about you,” Anna says, smiling broadly. She pulls away and gestures towards her companion. “This is Jo.”

Jo and Dorothy shake hands, eyeing each other speculatively. Dorothy’s shake is firm beneath her own, her palms calloused and warm.

“Well c’mon in,” Dorothy says, just as a loud _whoop_ sounds from the other end of the apartment. Anna grins widely and Dorothy shakes her head with that same fondly exasperated look she’d worn earlier.

They round the corner and Jo spots the woman who must be Charlie, standing up from the couch and tugging a headset off her head. She makes an excited noise and practically leaps over the table, rushing over to throw her arms around Anna, not bothering to drop the video game controller she has clutched in her fist.

Jo blinks. “Jesus Christ,” she mumbles, feeling her eyes go wide. “Another redhead.”

Dorothy comes up to stand beside her, crossing her arms over her chest as she laughs. “We might be in trouble,” Dorothy agrees, casting a sidelong glance down at Jo, who grins back.

“—wiped the floor with those d-bags,” Charlie is saying to Anna, hands still tight on her arms. “Anyway I’m glad you made it!” She releases Anna, turning to Jo and smiling widely from underneath blunt bangs cut straight across her forehead. “Hi, I’m Charlie,” she says brightly.

Jo takes the proffered hand and shakes, introducing herself as she takes Charlie in. She’s not sure what she expected, but the slim, bubbly redhead in yellow skinny jeans and a Princess Leia t-shirt isn’t it.

Charlie tosses the controller on the couch and yanks the bag off of Anna’s shoulder, sweeping an arm towards the hallway. “Let me show you to your chambers,” she says archly in a ridiculously fake British accent, and Jo decides that she likes her immediately. Anna lets Charlie drag her out of the room, Jo and Dorothy following more slowly, but as she turns the corner, Anna looks back and catches Jo’s eye, smiling a private smile just for her.

Dorothy notices and arches an eyebrow at Jo, a tiny smile playing on her lips, but thankfully, she doesn’t comment.

Charlie gives them the grand tour, careful to point out the collectibles and figurines she has lining the walls. Jo recognizes some of them from movies that she’d watched with Sam and Dean when she was younger, when the Winchesters used to come visit or she would visit them. When they reach the bedroom at the end of the hall, she tosses Anna’s bag on the bed and turns, brown eyes flickering from her friend to Jo and back.

“So, I only have one guest room,” she says, “but if you want I can make up the couch…”

Jo shakes her head. “I should really get back on the road,” she replies reluctantly. She can feel Anna in the space next to her, neither of them touching, neither of them looking at the other.

Charlie’s eyes are quick, flickering between Anna and Jo and catching the heavy weight of all the nothing that hangs between them. “No way,” she exclaims. “You have to stay, at least one night. Let us make you dinner before you go.”

“I don’t want to get in the way—”

Charlie cuts her off with a dismissive wave of her hand. “You won’t be in the way. Any friend of Anna’s is a friend of mine.” She smiles sweetly. “So. Should I make up the couch or...?”

“Jo can share with me,” Anna says quickly, and when Jo looks swiftly over at her, her cheeks color and she sets her jaw with a stubborn glare as if challenging her to argue that makes Jo want to laugh and tease, to reach out and kiss her.

Out of the corner of her eye, Jo thinks she sees Charlie and Dorothy share a knowing grin.

* * *

Jo ends up staying for two days more than she'd planned, uncomfortable as she is with taking Charlie and Dorothy's hospitality without giving them anything in return. Turns out Dorothy is a friggin' amazing cook, whipping up amazing dinners from memory without even having to glance at a recipe. On the second night she makes a chocolate cake that makes Anna moan in such a sinful way that Jo has no choice but to take her to bed as soon as they can get away, working her over with hands and mouth until she comes, muffling her moan into the flesh of her own arm.

It's a good thing that Dorothy can cook though, because Charlie sure can't, as they discover when she burns the grilled cheese she tries to make while Dorothy is at work one afternoon. She mournfully tips the distinctly charcoal shaped remains of their sandwiches into the garbage and Jo snatches the remaining bread and cheese slices off the counter and ends up rectifying the mistake herself.

Charlie tries to teach Jo how to play Call of Duty, the game that she'd been playing online before Anna and Jo showed up, and while Jo's better than Anna and can appreciate the concept of it, aiming a controller is nothing like aiming a real gun, and Charlie winds up kicking all their asses, until Dorothy gets home and gives her a run for her money. The four of them watch movies together on Charlie's gigantic red leather couch and it feels strangely normal for someone who has barely felt at home anywhere before. She gets along well with Charlie and has a lot in common with Dorothy, and then of course there's Anna.

But she wakes up the third morning after they've arrived and knows it's time to go. It doesn't feel right to stay here in Charlie and Dorothy's house, eating their food and using their water and taking up space when she barely knows them. She's itching to get back on the road, and ever since Anna had made her call her mother, she's been longing to see her face, to see how she's doing and be worried over and be lectured for taking off. Sometimes it's nice, being mothered.

Jo carefully disentangles herself from Anna, who is still sound asleep, and crawls out of bed, tucking the blankets in around her sleeping form. She dresses quickly, pulling on freshly washed clothes thanks to the in-suite washer and dryer they've got here. Anna reaches out in her sleep for Jo, wrapping her arms around the comforter where Jo had been lying and dragging it into her chest. She looks so young in sleep, red hair pooling across the powder blue pillowcase, slender fingers clutching at the blanket, lips just slightly parted. It makes Jo want to climb back into the bed with her, to coil her arms around her and tangle her hands in that red mane. But if she gets back into bed, if she wakes Anna up now, she doesn't think she’ll be able to go, and besides, they already said goodbye, that night in Pacific Grove before they came here. There's nothing more to say that hasn’t already been said.

She shoulders her bag as she turns to go and pauses with her hand on the doorknob when she hears Anna stir behind her.

"Jo?" Anna calls out sleepily, and Jo looks over her shoulder to see her sitting up, clutching the sheet to her bare chest.

"Hey," Jo says softly, turning back against her better judgement and crossing back to the bed to plant a gentle kiss to Anna's lips. "I gotta go, babe." The endearment slips past her lips before she can stop it, and she wishes she could take it back. Anna was hers for just one blissful week and now it's back to the road, back to the real world, and Anna isn't her anything anymore.

Anna's brow furrows and she reaches to rub sleep from her eyes. "You were going to leave without saying goodbye?"

"I was going to try," Jo says with a wry twist of her lips that can’t really be called a smile. _Because it would be easier than trying to say goodbye to you again_.

"Coward," Anna teases, but she's not angry. She just pushes herself up onto her knees and moves to the side of the bed, still clutching the sheet to her naked chest. She's face to face with Jo and curls her free hand around Jo's neck, pulling her in until their lips touch again, softly, gently, a brush more than a kiss.

“Promise you’ll call?” Anna says.

Jo nods, though she knows Anna will have better things to do, better people to talk to now that she’s made it to her destination.

Anna leans back to look up into Jo's face and they just stare at each other for several long seconds, green eyes boring into brown, and there is naked longing in Anna's wide eyes. For a moment Jo thinks that Anna might ask her to stay, and she can feel the desire to ask Anna to come with her bubbling up in her own chest, but the words never come.

"Thank you," Anna says instead, "for everything."

Jo nods. "Yeah." She licks dry lips and makes herself meet Anna's eyes. "You too." She tries to tell Anna with words she can't say just how much she means it.

And then she can't do this anymore, or else she's going to climb right back in bed with Anna and never leave. She bends to kiss Anna one last time, shoulders her bag and turns away without another word, refusing to look back as she closes the door softly behind her.

* * *

It's a bright, sunny day in California, the air already hot and heavy with the salty smell of the nearby ocean even though it’s barely ten am. Jo shoves her bag onto the passenger seat of the truck, ignoring how much she already misses having Anna there beside her in its place. She distracts herself by making lists of things she needs to stock up on and trying to navigate the unfamiliar town until she finds the grocery store they’d passed on the way in. She and Anna finished off nearly everything they had before they reached California, so she needs all the fixings for sandwiches, another case of water, plus munchies to eat on the road. She almost adds M&Ms to the list before she remembers that those were Anna’s favorite, and she doesn’t need to buy them anymore. Jesus, one week driving with her and she’s already developed a habit of buying Anna’s favorite snacks. Well, Anna’s gone now, and Jo doesn’t need fucking M&Ms anymore.

But beer. Beer would be good.

The store is nearly empty at this time in the morning, and she makes her way sluggishly up and down the aisle, throwing in random boxes and bags of non-perishables. She indulges, buying the name-brand chips since her wallet is still pleasantly stuffed with bills, having saved a lot of money driving with Anna and won more at the bars they stopped at with Anna as her accomplice. She pays the cashier, a pimply teenager in a striped apron with the grocery store's name emblazoned proudly across it and a name tag that reads "Alfie", and forces a smile as she takes the bags and makes her way out of the store. The liquor store isn’t open yet, but she figures she can pick some up tonight when she stops.

Jo shifts the plastic bags to her left hand, digging in her pocket for the keys with her right. “Crap!” The keys catch on the edge of the pocket, slipping out of her hand so that she has to bend and snag them back off the ground, juggling the bags in her over-laden hand to keep them from spilling. She stands again, making to move towards her truck—and freezes, her entire body going stock still.

There, leaning up against the tailgate of her truck, stuffed-full backpack resting against her feet, is a familiar slim, red-headed figure, her hands shoved casually into her pockets and wearing a suspiciously familiar green and blue plaid flannel. Jo feels her jaw drop open in surprise as she takes in Anna, grinning across at her from where she rests nonchalantly against the tailgate as if she belongs there. She doesn’t say anything, just beams at Jo as she approaches until they’re standing so close that the toes of Jo’s boots almost touch Anna’s Converses.

“What are you doing here?” Jo asks breathlessly, setting down the groceries before she drops them and resisting the urge to fist her trembling hands into the fabric of Anna’s clothes, to pull her close and do something stupid like never let her go.

Anna shrugs, her green eyes dancing as they skate over Jo’s face. “California’s nice, but there are a hell of a lot of places I haven’t seen yet.”

Jo licks suddenly dry lips, her heart clamoring in her chest. “Where you headed?” she asks, trying for nonchalant and mostly succeeding.

“No idea,” Anna replies, her grin widening until Jo feels an answering smile tug at her own lips. “Wherever you are, I guess.”

For a moment they just stare at each other, grinning stupidly across the space between them, and then Jo steps forward, pressing Anna against the tailgate and kissing her hard, sweeping her tongue in to claim Anna’s mouth, hands fisting tight in the fabric of her shirt. They pull apart, panting and beaming, and without a word, Anna steps away from the tailgate so they can load the supplies into the back and jump into the truck.

Jo puts the truck into drive, starting out of the parking lot. “So,” she says, smirking across at Anna in the passenger seat next to her. “Go until we hit the Atlantic?”

Anna laughs, and reaches for her hand, lacing their fingers together on the seat between them. “Just shut up and drive, Harvelle.”

And Jo squeezes Anna’s hand, grinning, and does what she’s told.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so, so much for reading; I hope you enjoyed it!
> 
> Don't forget to give musingsofashley some love for her amazing artwork!! [ART MASTERPOST](http://musingsofashley.tumblr.com/post/96553708627/title-we-are-stars-author-wincechesters)


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